Until only revenge was left
by GekkouSenn
Summary: This is how, a young man that had very little, lost all. He lost his parents, he lost his name, he lost his will and finally he lost his very right to live. All of it, gone, vanished without leaving a trace. Until only a terrible desire for revenge was left.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - Until only revenge was left -

Disappointment was the last emotion he felt. As his godfather was falling, an instant closer to his death, all he seemed to be able to think about was the deep and heart wrenching feeling that this was truly the end. Not Sirius's, but his own. What had caused this particular feeling, was purely the loss of an escape he had wished for his whole life. Sirius too had submitted to the cruelty of Harry's life, and had crumbled under the overwhelming feeling that nothing would be able to save Harry from his own destiny. Maybe that was exactly why Sirius's face had reflected his disappointment back at him. Maybe he too had hoped to get to know him, maybe even help him. But death had chosen to throw salt on already gaping wounds. And Sirius died.

Harry had only been able to stand and watch, his mind processing so quickly how deep into despair he would fall instead of ordering his arms to grab for Sirius. His friends had always said he had a 'saving people' thing but here was the proof they were wrong. Or maybe he too, had bowed to fatality and understood he wouldn't be able to catch his godfather no matter how hard he would have tried.

Harry had done his best though, because until now he had believed he had a chance to break free from all the pain. But that was all lost now. His fighting spirit, his hope, his chance, gone with his godfather on the other side of the Veil.

All Harry could feel now was Remus Lupin's arms around him, as he kept him from going after Sirius. The wolf probably thought he would run after his godfather grieving too deeply to realise he was launching himself through the Veil. And maybe Harry would have, but not for the assumed reason.

In a matter of seconds, Harry had thought it all through. His chance at life was gone, he had no way to find peace. He would rather leave this world together with his last hope than stay behind at the mercy of the living.

But Remus intervened, and even though Sirius was gone, Harry lived. The miserable, pitiful Harry that no one could see. The one that hated himself more than anything, and yet couldn't do anything more but add to his guilt.

So many died because of him, and yet here he stood, another corpse at his feet, safe and sound. Why was his life so twisted? He would rather have died in their place; Sirius, Cedric, his parents and so many others he didn't even know about.

Just then, a voice cut through his thoughts, a female voice that provoked in him a wave of rage he wasn't sure he could control. He couldn't hear her words above the furious beating of his heart, but he still understood the tone, taunting and proud.

Suddenly, he had to have her, bloody and shaking, another piece to the collection at his feet. Only this time, it will be by his choice, by his wand, he will make her a corpse even if this was the last thing he got to do.

Harry broke free from Remus's arms with a strength that surprised the werewolf and ran after the witch, passing the Order member trying to stop him, ignoring his friends that called out for him to stay. When he got to the Ministry entrance hall, she was waiting for him a joyful smile on her face. But when he got close enough, the grin vanished, and Harry spied fear in her eyes.

But Harry didn't know why she was suddenly afraid of him. Maybe, because it was the first time she felt his unrestrained magic, free to rage as it was prone to do when he got angry. The panic on her face grew clearer and clearer as he raised his wand, the tip already glowing.

"The Killing Curse, Potter?"

The new voice surprised Harry, because this time he heard the words distinctly above the drums of his rage. As if the newcomer had appeared in Harry's own head, the voice spoke again.

"How ironic that the spell match your eyes, isn't it?" It taunted, a dark laughter reasoning in both his head and the hall.

That's when he recognized it, Voldemort. How could he have forgotten the man? A smirk came back to Bellatrix's face as she used the opportunity to disappear in the background. But Harry wouldn't let her leave, he swore he would have her dead, so have her he will.

He pushed Voldemort out of his mind with ease, using the storm of anger raging in him to carry the murderer out. His wrath a bitter taste in his mouth, he let the spell run after her, following her into the darkness where she thought she was hiding. The emerald green light struck her almost lovingly, enveloping her in the magic before the light receded. Once the light gone, there was nothing left, no corpse, no blood, absolutely nothing.

_Pity_, s_he deserved worse, _thought Harry not yet realising what he had just done_._ His mind was cold and mechanic in his vengeance and he had left his principles behind.

Harry felt a breeze on his side and skipped a few step back to avoid Voldemort's trade mark curse. The red light of the spell seemed to be stalking him as the snakeman kept casting it and missing. Harry wasn't scared.

Somehow, Harry wished for the end that would come with the green light, so he waited. He kept dodging the Crucios, until finally he saw his enemy's frustration reach a peak. The spell was coming, he got revenge for Sirius, he had no more reason to stay. He had made his peace, so he just waited for the spell. The tip of Voldemort's wand grew brighter until the distinct green light appeared, but the spell never came.

Dumbledore stepped in, duelling the Dark Lord to save Harry.

_How noble of him, _he thought bitterly.

Harry ignored the rest of the duel, as he was quickly pulled into a fortress of Aurors and Order members. Instead he started to wonder hidden among the protective wizards, what reason would he have to live now?

Harry James Potter was many things. The Boy-who-Lived, the Chosen One, the Saviour - to the press and most of the wizarding world. The Gryffindor Golden Boy, Troublemaker, Dumbledore's Favourite - for the students and teachers of Hogwarts. His closest friends saw him as a hot-headed, naïve but cheeky teenager. And yet, it wasn't who he was. In fact, he couldn't find himself in any of their descriptions, so it only gave him one more reason to leave.

To him, all he was, was a pitiful child. Miserable, sad, desperate and above all powerless. But no one else saw it, no one had even attempted to know him. He had never cared really, hadn't expected it from anyone. But when Sirius fell into the Veil, he realised how much he had hoped that at least his godfather would see through the masks that had been forced upon him.

Hermione and Ron came to his side, to support and console him but there were nothing they could do. They didn't know him either. And his only hope was gone, but somehow he couldn't even bring himself to be sad, not even for his godfather's death. All the loss had brought was more suffering and the ever present sense of resignation that had haunted the back of his mind for years.

Still they whispered reassurances, like 'everything will be fine', 'it will get better', 'we're here for you'. _Like it had ever helped, _Harry almost snorted. He had nothing against his friends, he loved them even and owed them so much. And yet, he had for them a hatred so deep, it scared him sometimes.

They were supposed to be his friends, not Dumbledore's protégées that happened to like him enough to hang out with him. They believed in the old man first, and Harry second. Otherwise, there is no way they would have stayed quiet about the little they knew about the Dursley's. He knew they loved him, so he knew they must have told someone about the starving, the bars on the windows, and the chores. And yet, nothing had happened.

Because Dumbledore must have said, 'Harry is safe at Privet Drive, the blood wards protect him from Voldemort. He can't stay anywhere else, it's too dangerous.' It was too dangerous, but he still got to spend half the vacation with the Weasley's? How come the Burrow isn't safe for the first month but is for the second one? It's the same with Grimmauld Place. It was safe enough for the Order to meet, and for an escaped convict to hide, but not for Harry.

But his friends had never caught on to that. They hadn't cared enough to do so. So Harry would stop putting their safety above his own. He was just so sick of always having to give but never getting anything back. He had enough of fighting, he just wanted to be left in peace.

It wasn't that he ever expected something back. He had been their friend so he had done his best to keep them safe and happy. But what reason could there be, to be willing to sacrifice his own life for people that won't even believe in him?

No, Dumbledore's lies were truer than anything he could say. He said Privet Drive was safe, so Harry had no choice but to return there.

For Harry, the only rational reason to have to go back to the Dursley's would be if his presence was needed there. And then, it would have nothing to do with his safety. Harry never got an explanation as to what exactly the wards were. But the fact that Voldemort was reborn thanks to his blood must've had an effect. Voldemort had been able to touch him thanks to it. Doesn't that mean that maybe the wards were useless?

_We share the same blood, I'm pretty sure Voldemort could walk through the blood wards if he knew where I lived. _Harry thought before noticing that the battle was over, and that Moody was pushing him into the Floo.

Harry refused to speak to anyone, his thoughts weren't in order yet. He watched Mme Pomfrey work her magic on Ron first, and putting him to sleep, before healing a few scrapes and cuts on the rest of his friends. When she came to him, and cast the spells, he flinched. Not because of the spell but because Hermione had sat next to him and taken his hand. He didn't want her comfort when his mind was in a frenzy about all the doubts he had. But still, she misunderstood and said something that brought more anger to Harry's heart.

"It's only a Diagnosis Charm, it's only to bring up your health history. It goes from your birth until now, and lists every physical injury - by magic means or not. It's a shame it doesn't…"

She continued to rattle on as she was prone to but Harry's focus was caught only on a few words. 'From your birth', she had said but it couldn't be. They would have said something, if not the teachers, Mme Pomfrey surely.

Hermione had to be wrong.

_But Hermione is never wrong._

They had seen his health history since birth, the first time he came in the hospital wing in first year. And they had still, made him go back to the Dursley's. How could they have betrayed him like that?

They must have saw it all. How little he was given to eat, the scars on his back from his Uncle's belt, the dent left from his broken leg that had not healed right. They must have known about how much suffering he had experienced at his 'family's' hands.

He had asked Dumbledore to not send him, pleaded even. But the man had said he would be 'safe' there, when he knew exactly how many times Harry had almost died from the beatings.

When he had received his letter from Hogwarts, he hadn't even dared to hope for an escape from the cruelty in his life but he still had thought it would maybe be a reprieve.

He had endured all the years at the Dursley's. Their anger, their hatred, their punishment, all of it he had dealt with as best as he could even if he didn't know why they couldn't be family. He had learned to read, to count, to cook, to clean, to take care of himself and others as quick as he had been able to on his own.

By the age of seven he could manage the household in his aunt's stead. And yet, it hadn't been enough. He would still be punished for something as ridiculous as wasting space. Still, he had gone through it all. Thanks to some irrational instinct that he had a right to live, that his chance would come.

But it hadn't. Only a letter had arrived. A single pitiful letter, just like him, the green ink somehow taunting him, matching his green eyes, and cleanly stating where he lived. "The cupboard under the stairs," it had said, like it was where he belonged.

Now that Harry thought of it, how could nobody have noticed where the letter was going? Harry was a celebrity that had disappeared for ten years. How come no one had been curious enough to look at the letter's destination?

_Or someone had seen it and ignored it. _Harry wondered, his suspicions going to the old man that had taken his death away.

Even when Harry had finally realised that his aunt and uncle were wrong, that he was not a waste of space, just when he managed to convince himself that his relatives just hated him for some reason he had yet to discover, just when he began to believe in his own worth, the insulting letter had given him the chance he had been waiting for without missing the opportunity to 'put him in his place'. And they had condoned it!

After, he had gotten his letter, he finally had understood why his aunt and uncle hated him, they didn't love him. They didn't have any reason to ignore that he was different. They hadn't even chosen to take him in, they had been forced to do it. And even if they had accepted him, he wasn't even like them, he was something else. A 'Freak', Uncle Vernon often said. Well, it seemed others called him a 'Saviour'.

At least, he had gained something. Somewhere to go. A reason to leave.

His years at Hogwarts had always started full of little hopes, and gentle attentions from people that almost seemed to care. And in a sense, that was exactly why it was now so hard for Harry to see the truth.

Because even if he knew ridiculously little about their world, he took great pride in how good he was at reading people.

Even if he knew little of the stories that were told about him, he understood that none of them spoke of him, personally. He understood that Dumbledore, the Weasley's, even Hermione and Ron only saw the character from some bedtime story when they looked at him. They only saw a boy that would rid them of some evil man, like the sacrifice he had been born to be. That understanding was worse than every beating he had taken at Privet Drive. At least, in his dark little room, he had been himself. But the wizards had made up a totally different 'Harry', a 'Harry', he knew nothing about.

To them, he wasn't someone, he was something. A hero, a saviour, a weapon to save them from the evil dark lord. So they liked him.

Harry knew Ron had only befriended him because of his fame. He understood that Ginny was in love with him because of all the bedtime stories her mother had read to her. He noticed how worried Mrs and Mr Weasley looked when he came back from the Dursley's.

And still, they had done nothing. Ron still continued to be a jealous prick at every new article in the prophet. Ginny still stalked him, even when he told her he didn't share her feelings. But the worse was how Mrs Weasley would scold him about not eating enough when Harry could see how worried she was. But once again, they stopped there. They didn't help Harry even if it only meant taking him in one month longer, but they helped the Boy-Who-Lived even when it meant risking their life.

Harry had always found weird that he had been left alone, to find the train the first time he went to Hogwarts. Wouldn't it have been dangerous if a Death Eater had thought to ambush him? How convenient it had been that the Weasley' just happened to shout about the train. Why would Mrs Weasley call out the way to the platform for Hogwarts when all of her own children had already been there? He had seen Ginny look his way that day, her gaze full of admiration. He had known instantly that they knew who he was, and that he was right next to them. This only had been a way to discreetly grab his attention.

Had it been planned? Maybe there were reasons he again hadn't been told about to make the Weasley want to befriend him before any other Wizarding family?

Dumbledore wanted him to believe that he cared for him. But he knew better. Why would he had been left at the Dursley's door in the middle of the winter, with only a letter to explain? Even if Aunt Petunia despised Harry's mother, the sensible thing to do would still be to ring the bell and announce her death. And more importantly, the Headmaster should have asked the woman if she wanted to take Harry in.

He could see the truth now, Dumbledore had not done so because he knew she would have refused. So he knew she hated her sister and still he had left Harry there. If he cared then why hadn't he even bothered to check on Harry in the long ten years he had spent at the Dursley's? If he had cared, he would have checked even if he thought it would be safe.

Or he had checked but had ignored the abuse. He had ignored the slavery Harry was subjected to and left him there, for some reason only the old man could fathom.

Now Harry could see it. He understood it all, but he was so tired of all the lies.

Once again, his thoughts were broken by a worried voice.

"Are you alright, my boy?" asked the Headmaster.

Harry could only nod. What he had realised still haunted him, and he hadn't been given the time to deal with the implications. He had yet to decide what to do so he nodded.

"Do you think you are well enough to follow me to my office then?" Dumbledore asked again.

Harry knew he was physically well enough to play Quidditch, but was he mentally that healthy? That was what the old man had meant. And no, he wasn't, but he wondered what was so important that the man would dispute Madam Pomfrey's authority to get Harry alone?

"I'm fine, Madam Pomfrey. Just a bit exhausted, I'll go to the dorm to sleep it off once the Headmaster is done." He spoke in a tone calmer than he felt. When the matron was about to insist, he cut her off. "I really want to sleep in my bed tonight, and I'm sure Professor Dumbledore won't keep me long."

Harry stood up from the bed he had been seated on, and realised he didn't really know how he had gotten there. Still, he ignored the last few remarks the nurse spoke to the old man and went ahead.

He left the Hospital Wing and strolled through the hallways, his mind working furiously as he wondered what the Headmaster wanted to talk about. But he knew he wouldn't be told about the reason why he had to return to Privet Drive, or any other revelation he had had about the wizard. It would project so much bad light on his reputation, Harry was pretty sure he would have to resort to Legilimency if he wanted answers.

It must mean that Dumbledore was about to reveal to him, something he knew nothing about yet? But why now? What had happen that would push the man to reveal one of his so precious secrets?

Harry was almost certain, he hadn't realised that Harry had intended suicide while he was duelling Voldemort. So it had to be something else…

And then it came back to him. The prophecy.

He had shattered it before he had gotten the opportunity to listen to it, but Dumbledore knew about it. The tag on the glass sphere had said that he had been the one to hear it? Would the man really share the content of the prophecy with Harry?

Well, it had been about him and Voldemort so Harry obviously had a right to know but it wouldn't be like Dumbledore to tell him about it. He was never told about things, even when it was about the fact that he had a godfather or that the whole wizarding world was thinking he was crazy. He had always had to find out about it on his own.

Did Dumbledore think that he had heard the prophecy and wanted to confirm it?

_That has to be it, _Harry thought with relief. He had found his answer before the Headmaster had reached the office. He walked to the wall in front of the gargoyle and leaned back against it. His arms were crossed in front of his chest as if to chase off a cold, he didn't feel. He could hear the steps of the Headmaster around the corner of the hall. He had no time, how was he supposed to trick the Headmaster into thinking he knew the Prophecy?

"Harry, my boy, let's enter, shall we?" he spoke as the gargoyle moved to let them pass.

They entered the office in silence, only once they were both seated with cups of tea did the Headmaster ask:

"Are you alright my boy? I know what Sirius meant to you."

The compassion in his voice almost brought out a snort out of Harry's throat.

But he stayed silent, not knowing what to answer.

_He knew what Sirius meant to me._ _I'm sure you did, he was my escape from you, it seems._

The venom in his thoughts was getting more potent each time he thought about how he had been robbed of so many opportunities to better his life. And somehow, all of it with the exception of the death of his parents was this man's fault.

_Did he plan for Sirius to be killed too?_

The thought struck Harry like lightning, and he felt his heart twist. He ground his teeth trying to stay impassive. Had the man played a role in his godfather's death? Without Sirius, no one would have more authority over him than Dumbledore.

But Sirius wouldn't have taken Harry away from Dumbledore all together, he would have just moved and started to live at Grimmauld Place. So this all came back to those damn blood wards and what they could do, then.

Harry couldn't find any way the old coot would have done it, but somehow it made sense to him. The burn of his anger still hot, his thought process flawed with paranoia but still, his instinct told him those blood wards were no good. That Dumbledore was using them for something totally different than Harry's safety.

"Harry? If you are too tired, we can talk tomorrow, my boy?"

Rage spiked once again in Harry, his magic struggling under his control, wanting to satisfy his anger in the only way it could. Destroy. But he couldn't let it go free, Dumbledore already noticed his magic flare, he had to say something.

"The prophecy…" he ground out, his voice strained by all the worries and doubts that gathered in his throat. He didn't know how to ask the man for an honest answer. He knew Dumbledore would not give him one. And then, his luck struck.

"Oh, Harry. I wasn't sure if you had had the time to listen to it. I should have told you about it sooner, my boy. It seems you came to the same conclusion that I did, I'm terribly sorry Harry that it falls on your shoulders to fight Voldemort. But nothing is lost, my boy. You have fought Voldemort many times, you know better than anyone that he is flawed. You must keep strong, Harry. "

And then, Harry felt terror in his heart. It tore through his already ruined hopes. He suddenly felt fingers, terribly cold not unlike dementors, circle his throat and squeeze. Was that simple fear or was death too eager to take him to wait? Harry tried to speak, beg for his life if he had too but his voice died into that maddening grip. He was already so far gone, and yet that freezing hand was somehow pushing him further, deeper into the sea of despair that flowed through his soul. Was he supposed to just drown? Just because some old coot had said that he had to be the one to fight Voldemort?

The storm of his magic raged stronger, creating waves on the water surface, it uncovered all the darkness he had managed to keep hidden all this time. The doubts had leaked through a crack made by Sirius's death, but the Headmaster had just dropped the key needed to open that part of himself he had forgotten. All the little details, he had forced himself to ignore.

His head of House pitying looks when she looked at him. The other students judgmental gaze when he walked the halls. His friends' expectation when they spoke to him. But the worst was that disgusting appreciation that had grown in him with every time he had witnessed Voldemort torture his Death Eater. Harry was terrified by that sense of satisfaction at finally being able to cause pain rather than experience it. And the fact, that he wasn't sure if it had all been Voldemort's feelings was horrific.

The awful hand on his throat tightened, bringing his own up in his panic, afraid to suffocate. When his fingers got into contact with the soft skin of his neck, he suddenly felt the grip on his breathing be released. Harry felt relieved when he thought he was getting back in control, only to feel a tug at his heart. A pull that took him even deeper in the blackness of his soul. He tried to fight it, but he had no reason to anymore.

He had locked his darkness to protect his friends from it. And he had just decided to stop putting them above himself. Maybe that strange part of him wanted to help. Somehow he understood it, he suddenly knew that this side of himself would refuse to let him die no matter what it would take. And Harry was tempted to let it take control, but he was scared.

He was uneasy. He knew best how easy it was to betray. Every single person in his life had done so. The Dursley's had not loved him. The Headmaster had lied too many times. His friends had given up too easily. Even Sirius had left him behind. Everyone had betrayed him, how could he trust himself not to?

The paranoia rising higher and higher, like a burning sun over an ocean of betrayal it shade light on the depth of the darkness, but Harry refused to look into it. The suspicions taking away that curiosity, he looked out again.

Taken aback with how easy it had been to break free from the pull of darkness, he looked at the Headmaster, at the worry in his eyes. But he knew the man wasn't concerned about his inner struggles, he was troubled that he had not sworn immediately he would die to save them all.

Fortunately, that particular 'Harry' had drowned, and the new one took the frost in his blood for what it was. Terror.

"I can't…How can I…?" he whispered. His sentence shattered by the fear.

"Prophecies are self-fulfilling, my boy. It makes a point of stating that you have the power to rival Voldemort's. Tom sealed both of your fates when he went after you. '_Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies, and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not_'. Only yours and young Mister Longbottom's parents had fought him and lived as many times. But he chose you, maybe because you were a half-blood like him, I'm not sure. But the scar he gave you that night marked you 'as his equal'. The prophecy became truth when he did, and that proves that you have the power to defeat him, Harry."

Dumbledore had leaked bit and pieces of the prophecy, like Harry had hoped. But all his mind could focus on was that his parents could have been spared. If Dumbledore had been more cautious, he would still be living with his parents and he would be happy.

"How did he know?" Harry asked, not really that interested in the answer but he had to keep Dumbledore talking. He had to know if there was more to it.

"I failed you, my boy. I was interviewing Professor Trelawney for her current position in Hogsmeade when she spoke the prophecy. I didn't realise a death eater was listening in on us and he reported the three first sentences to his lord."

'The three first sentences', why not all of it? And how could Dumbledore know, it was only the first three? If he hadn't noticed the spy, how could he know how much he had heard? Either he had noticed him and stopped him from listening further. Or he had been told by the spy later on. A spy?

_Snape!_

The rage took over his magic this time and made a few of Dumbledore's trinket explode with the student magical pressure in the room. But Harry didn't care, he had had enough. Snape had been the reason his parents were dead, and yet he had been given a job?!

And even worse the man still had the guts to belittle Harry, and hate him for the sole reason of being his father's son. The man owed him big time, his magic couldn't wait to get its 'hands' on the Potions Master.

"I'm done." Harry said his tone so full of finality that Dumbledore flinched.

"Harry, my boy, surely you don't mean to…"

"I said I'm done, I want out!" Harry shouted, before the Headmaster could start to sputter nonsense.

"'And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives'. My boy, the prophecy is clear, only you can save us all from Voldemort." The old wizard almost whispered, as if the softer voice would appease Harry enough to see sense.

But the words spoken as soft as they may sound, could be nothing else but brutal. Harry truly had no way out, only he could kill Voldemort for a reason no one knew.

Not knowing what to do anymore, drowning in suspicion, ignorance, and cruelty, Harry laughed. The sound dark and so full of despair that it made the old light wizard move back in his chair, away from Harry.

But still, Harry laughed, hunched on himself, his heart hurting from betrayal. The world had made a joke of his life. All this time he had sought freedom, he had thought he would have it someday with his godfather, and when the man had died he had thought he would get it in death. But he wasn't allowed to die, oh no…. Harry had to live and die fighting a snake-faced psychotic maniac because the Fates had decided so. So he laughed, until giggles became sobs and the bitterness in his mouth took on a salty flavour.

He had been played with his whole life. The gods throwing cruelty and pain in chunks, he had lived through it all and finally, it was for nothing. He would never get peace. He was never meant to find peace. His only role in this sadistic world was to be a puppet. And he was so tired of it. So tired of it all, that somehow he found it all so terribly funny.

It had been there for him to see from the start. He should only do what he was told. He wasn't allowed to think and act for himself. That's how Fate designed his life after all. Making sure that every single detail would hurt more, push him deeper into the darkness.

The supposed loyal friends that followed another one's word rather than his own. The Order that protected him by jailing him with hateful masters they called his 'family'. The Headmaster that was teaching him how to 'survive' when it only meant he had to die at the appropriate time. The Death Eaters that had sworn to fight for their Lord but were too incompetent to kill a teenager. His nemesis that was so much of a genius that he never realised he was being played with as much as Harry is.

He too was Fate's plaything, Harry realised. But the difference between Voldemort and Harry was that the man had somehow learned how to play the game.

Harry was only a puppet, Voldemort got to be a player. He had made his choice between Harry and Neville, between ignoring the prophecy or not. Harry had been born into the game. A game where Fate and Destiny were challenging each other on how cruel they could make a life.

"My boy, don't be so distraught about it. You are 'the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord', everything will be fine." Dumbledore had tried, he really had. But his words only caused a whole new set of giggles.

_Vanquish?! The word is quite descriptive of what would happen when a man was somehow pushed out of his body and forced to become a ghost, isn't it?_

He had fulfilled his destiny already, he had vanquished the Dark Lord with a power he didn't know. No one had known how he did it. But still, Dumbledore had thought that it meant he could get them rid of the snake definitively.

His giggles continued as he stood up, wiping tears of despair from his eyes. He turned his back on the shocked Headmaster, the man was so shaken that he let Harry leave his office without a word.

Harry walked slowly to his dorm, his giggles returning to sobs again. He climbed the stairs of the only home he had ever known, feeling its magic comforting him. But it was all in vain, there was no way he would be able to break free from Fate itself! How was he supposed to fight Gods?

The young green eyed wizard went to bed broken that night. Yet, the saddest wasn't his shattered hopes but the fact that no one seemed to notice it. He spent months with them, and yet they didn't notice, how destroyed he was. They never saw the weariness in his eyes after hours of Voldemort induced nightmares, manipulated memories, and torturing visions. His body aching from the lingering pain of the curses he would feel in his dreams.

Well, that was his proof then. None of them cared for who he was. They cared only for who he could be. What he would have to be for them. And the answer was tragically simple, a sacrifice. He was meant to shield them from what scared them.

Harry knew he had no way out. He had no choice but to be what others wanted him to be or they would force it on him. And more than anything else, Harry was tired of fighting…

Harry had done his best, he had battled trolls, acromantulas, basilisk, dementors, and dragons even. But he was not meant to think or act by himself from the very beginning. He had been made to go along with what happened to him, born a toy for Fate's own entertainment.

Once, in a rare bout of clarity, in his sinking mind, he asked his friends what they thought about the prophecy. And as usual, they had said the Dumbledore must have been right. As usual, they ignored his explanation about how vanquish didn't mean kill, that it meant make something disappear. But they had not listened. And he had been left to drown in his despair.

He obeyed when he was told to go back to the Dursley's. He stood silent even when he knew it would only cause him more pain, when Moody and Mr Weasley spoke to his relatives at the train station. He took the hits, when his vindictive Uncle beat him in punishment for how the 'Freaks' had threatened him.

In the darkness of his cupboard, curled up and almost unable to move in his little 'room', Harry opened his beautiful emerald eyes and looked at the nothingness that was now his life. For that was how he had lived or rather survived, he only recently realised how empty it was. Owning absolutely nothing, he had fought to at least keep his own thoughts and wishes alive and still somehow he kept losing something else at each of Fate's turns in her deadly game.

No matter what Hagrid had said, what his friends told him, what Dumbledore had assured him of, Harry knew that if his caring relatives didn't, the Dark Lord would see to his end. Strangely, that seemed almost comforting to Harry, the real Harry. Finally a certainty in all the lies and half-truth that the world had fed him.

At least, he could trust the pain. Broken bones, bruises, and hunger could not lie. But even the prospect of his death left him empty of any feeling.

In his life, Harry possessed few things. The love his parents had had for him. The magic he was gifted with. And the cutting mind he had sharpened like a blade and was his sole weapon to ensure his survival.

If he had owned something else, Harry would never know. Some maniac murderer took it away. Voldemort took it all. Before he was old enough to remember, he was already losing. If he ever 'had', he had lost it when Voldemort had cast that damned killing curse.

Harry knew that was when the Fates had begun their game. A terrible game where the only goal was to found new ways to turn his whole life around to direct it to even darker places. How the cruel entity could always found something worse, Harry will never know but how he resented them.

But even then, Harry had thought that maybe, just maybe, he would get a chance to live. He wanted that single, precious opportunity to live so much. However, as always, cruelty had struck him and made it so that he would murder his own escape, bringing him to the Veil. Destiny had joined in on Fate's scheme and revealed themselves to Harry, they had spoken to him through the Prophecy. They were telling him to obey their will, that if he did, he would fight, struggle, and in the end he would still lose.

In his dreams, he could hear their voices mocking how powerless he could be. He listened to them talk about how much fun he was to torment, how tasty his tears were, how beautifully he screamed.

But Harry had kept his sanity. Even with Sirius' death on his conscience, he had kept his thoughts, his wishes, and his desires. Even as drenched in despair as they were, he kept them preciously, in hope of a chance. But as always, there were absolutely nothing he could do with them. And maybe Fate and Destiny resented him for his tenacity.

Because another cruel twisted turn of their game was played and he had lost them too. His thoughts, his wishes, his desires all vanished in an instant with the words his aunt Petunia had spat at him when his uncle had beat him to his knees the night before. She had said no one wanted him, not them, not the freaks, and not even death.

He had tried to convince himself that it wasn't true. He had screamed back at her as much. He had sobbed that his parents had loved him, his parents had died to protect him, that his parents had wanted him.

She had looked at him with pure pity in her eyes. For the first time in Harry's life, he saw something else than hatred in her gaze. She had watched him on the floor, coughing blood and struggling to breath. She had kneeled in front of him so their eyes would meet looking straight at his vulnerability, so he would see the truth in her words and spoke her tone calm and freezing.

"If they truly wanted you, they would have taken you with them. If they loved you, they wouldn't have left you behind."

"They didn't left, they died!" he shouted back at her, but she didn't care.

"And just because they died to protect you, it doesn't mean they loved you. It's because of you they died. You are the reason they are gone." she continued a disgusting smirk on her lips.

"No! They loved me, they have to! It wasn't my fault!" he cried, his voice drown in bitter tears.

"Why do you think it's so hard to get rid of you? Even with all the effort my dear Vernon took to get rid of you, you never died. Even in death, they don't want you. They never did. And that is the truth Harry." she spat at him, her conviction clear on her face.

'_They didn't love me, then?'_

It was then that Harry finally drowned. It was at that moment that he felt the freezing black water of his despair finally invade his lungs and force him to succumb to misery.

The Dursley's had been right. All his life, he had raged at them, he had fought his uncle's beatings, he had ignored their words for years now. But in the end they had been right.

Harry really was a freak. Not because he had magic, like they thought. Because he had no identity, no right to exist, no place to simply be, let alone belong.

Recalling her words, Harry couldn't help the sob that broke through him. Even with the pain it put him through every time he took a shaky breath, he couldn't stop his anguished cries. He had done his best. Facing monsters and people, allies and enemies, all as dangerous as the last, even facing Gods, he had survived because he had still believed that his parents watched over him. That they had saved him because they wanted him to live. But he had been wrong, they had just left him. They had been the very first to abandon him. How could he find the strength to survive now?

In his life, Harry had only possessed a few things. The love his parents had for him. The magic that was protecting him constantly. And his cutting mind he had sharpened like a blade.

But the Fates had brought the truth to his eyes. He had never had his parents love. And he had lost his mind when he accepted the role of a fool. All he had left was his magic. And even when it was all he had left, he could not use it. He didn't know how, and even if he knew he wasn't allowed to.

In the end, Harry had nothing, and was nothing, was meant to be nothing.

So here, he was laying late at night in a cupboard, his heavy panting the sole sound that could be heard. His breathing raspy from his screams of denial. His cheeks tainted with blood and tears. His soul in shreds, he lay almost dead. And, yet, he was too scared to let the unconsciousness take over. He was absolutely terrified of the nightmares his mind had provided even though he had been wide awake. Visions of his parents rejecting him in death and sending him back to the living only to die again and again. Once at the hand of Voldemort, once at the end of Dumbledore's plan, too many times to bear.

Not brave enough to face his life or his death, he decided to do just like his parents had wished. Just like the wizards had hoped. He will fight as their Saviour, he will let his friends stab him with their kindness for the Chosen One, and he will kill the Boy-who-Lived. Just like they wanted. He had no other choice. This was all he could do, stay the gods' puppet until they choose if they wanted to keep him alive for another round or send him to a whole other kind of hell.

If only, he was smarter, stronger. Maybe he could found a way to finally play his turn in this gruesome game. If only, he could finally act of his own will and find a way to break free. If he could break free…

Harry felt bubbles break to the surface, coming from the terribly dark depth of his soul. And suddenly he knew what he would do if he could ever escape this infernal destiny. Rather than peace, he would yearn for vengeance. Revenge for all the time they looked at him in pity but didn't help. Revenge for all the time he was ignored when he had all the answers. Revenge for all the years he survived in pain when he could have lived happy.

Harry will finally let the monster he had shackled at the bottom of his ocean like soul, go free. He will let it take his vengeance on them all. As cruel as he would manage, on as many as he would reach. On the wizards, on the muggles, and especially on the gods…

This is how, a young man that had very little, lost all. He lost his parents, he lost his name, he lost his will and finally he lost his very right to live. All of it, gone, vanished without leaving a trace. Until only a terrible desire for revenge was left.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - The long awaited opportunity

Light filtered below his cupboard door, waking Harry from the unconsciousness he had ended up succumbing to. He could hear aunt Petunia moving around upstairs. So Harry knew he would be let out soon to cook breakfast. He would have to push through the pain to do his chores, and maybe even accept a few more hits.

He was so sick of it all.

Harry's wandering thoughts were cut short when his cupboard door was unlocked. The door opened to the blinding morning light of the corridor and the angry face of his aunt.

"Come on boy, we haven't got all day. Go wash yourself! And don't you dare leave stains anywhere!" she said harshly, before strolling back to the kitchen.

He scrambled to his feet, exiting his 'room' and went upstairs, his limbs aching from staying bent to fit in the little space under the stairs. Once in the bathroom, he had to extricate himself from the torn clothes, ripping some of the gashes on his back open again. It hurt, but Harry had had worse. So he climbed in the shower and cleaned the red off his skin.

For once, his mind was calm, completely empty as he savoured the hot water cascading down his body. The feeling of numbness in his soul was still there but it only made his body more sensitive to everything else. So he took in all the sensation glad to be back in his body rather than be trapped in his head again. Well, he had done all the thinking he could have anyway, there was no solution, no escape, and he had made his peace with it. Or so he had thought.

When he caught his reflection in the bathroom mirror, a whole new set of tears came to his eyes. The blue and green skin, the claw of dragon imprinted in his shoulder, the fang of the basilisk in his elbow, the line he had been made to carve into his hand. " I must not tell lies."

_What a joke! _Harry thought, his thoughts more venomous than they had ever been.

He had done nothing but. No one knew him his very existence had been a lie. How was he supposed to go on ? Maybe he would have better luck in death, facing his parents and his godfather ?

Quickly wiping the water from his face, Harry ignored the now familiar pull at his heart. He knew he would get punished if he made his aunt wait to long. He dressed and joined his aunt in the kitchen his eyes still struggling with the bright light.

His uncle was already seated at the table, clothed and sipping his coffee. It surprised Harry greatly. The whale of a man should have slept until noon on a Sunday. Sitting uncharacteristically calm at the table, he was reading a letter rather than his habitual newspaper. At the sight of the parchment made letter, Harry knew this could not be good.

"Boy, we gave you shelter, food and clothes, have we not?" asked his uncle in a tone so calm it sent shiver down his spine. The young man knew his uncle had to be truly enraged to not have turned violet faced and unfurled his anger in a storm of strikes.

Green eyes fearfully glanced at the letter, his mind imagining that this could maybe finally be his last day. Maybe the Fates were finally giving up on him? He gathered the last remnants of courage he had, hoping it would be enough to support him through the hits until it was time.

Harry took a big inspiration, savouring what he hoped would be his last breath before answering his uncle, who had yet to lift his gaze from the words written on it.

"Yes, Uncle." He whispered softly.

"Then why have you hidden your wealth from us. Why are you keeping what we deserve, huh?" Vernon said his voice more forceful but still calm as he finally looked at Harry. "How come you never told us how much money you had? After all we have done for you!" Finally yelled his uncle standing up and walking towards Harry.

"Uncle… I… hum…" tried to justify himself but was cut off as an overly meaty hand hit him across the face. He could already taste blood in his mouth. The letter was trusted in front of him, his uncle still spitting at him.

"As soon as this freakish bank of yours opens you will transfer all your money into my account you hear me!" screamed Vernon anger starting to colour his face the expected purplish red. "When does it open, boy?" he asked growing angrier, shaking the paper in Harry's face.

"It doesn't close, Uncle." He whispered again as softly as possible, understanding he had once again been played. If his uncle wanted his vault money, he won't be killed. He would have to stay in Privet Drive unable to pay for Hogwarts, and there was no way the Dursley would pay even if to get rid of him for major part of the year. His thought sunk deeper into the darkness that had grown in his soul over the summer.

"What do you mean it doesn't close? Boy, are you taking me for a fool? It can't always stay open!" yelled Vernon, breaking through his thoughts, suddenly much angrier than he had been. He was bringing his hand up for another strike. But Harry hurried to explain, wishing to avoid unnecessary suffering.

"Uncle! It's because creatures run it. It's creatures that run it…" The hand still struck him and a foot caught him in the ribs for good measure, bringing him to his knees. His Uncle crouched, handed him the letter for him to read.

"Then you'll take us to that freakish establishment and wire all your money in my name, you hear me?" His uncle asked when Harry hadn't made any attempt to read the letter.

"Yes, Un- … Uncle." He breathed his voice shaking, from his uncle hitting on already bruised skin.

"How do we get there, boy?" Asked Vernon, calming now that Harry seemed cooperating.

"We'll have to get to the street you bring me to every year, Uncle." He answered.

"You mean that your freakish bank is in that street? You freaks dare to share the same street as us noble citizen?" His uncle interrogated him, his temper flaring again.

"Just one pub, Uncle. Only because we must to get to our own street." Explained the fearful fifteen year old.

"I guess, you at least understand not to dare mingle with us." Commented Vernon. Harry could only hope they wouldn't cross another wizard on the way to Gringotts, for if his uncle heard that some wizards considered muggles as inferior, it would cost Harry a long and tortuous near death. Vernon would be too greedy to kill him and risk losing the money. Still, Harry half-hoped that they would cross some Death Eaters though, what he would give to die quickly and see his relatives finally punished for all they had put him through.

The Dursley's made quick work of getting dressed and getting Harry 'presentable' as Petunia had said. She had hidden the most obvious traces of abuse from his forearm and face with artful make-up. They then went outside where he was pushed head first in the car almost getting his feet caught in the door in his uncle impatience.

Only then did Harry recall that until today he had never received any letter from Gringotts. He had never received anything from the wizarding world really. Outside from his Dumbledore approved friends' correspondence of course. Did the old one also took away his letters? If so, then how did this one had made it?

So Harry started to wonder, if this could be another of the Headmaster plans. But to what purpose? He would not be able to go back to the old headmaster's influence if the Dursley's took his money. Maybe it wasn't Dumbledore's doing at all.

The Death Eater then? To get him to leave the wards of Privet Drive? But they were already out and nothing was happening, surely they wouldn't wait for them to get to Diagon Alley and risk a quicker intervention from the Aurors?

In this case, it had to be the goblins. Maybe they had some important information to pass on to him. He should have read the letter when he had the chance, then he would have known. They had probably made sure the letter would get to him. But how? And why had it been his Uncle that had got it?

Right then, Harry came to another realisation. He knew so little about magic. He didn't know how the charms on posting owls worked or if wards could keep post out, or even if another way of correspondence existed. But well, it's not like it would do him any good to know, right? _I won't be making any use of the knowledge anyway. _Harry snorted at himself, he had made his peace, hadn't he?

It took them about an hour of the two adults making plans for all the money they were about to get. And Harry wondering how the little he had in his vault could pay for two new cars, and a complete renovation of the house.

They asked Harry multiple questions about the creature he had talked about. And Harry took the opportunity to tell them that Goblins were rude and ugly looking and that it would all go quicker if they just let him deal with the "monsters" as Petunia had taken to call them.

Since it was a Sunday morning, Vernon found no trouble to find a spot to park and they made their way into the wizarding pub. Tom was cleaning a table when they stepped in and immediately welcomed Harry.

"Oh! Mr Potter, came to stay until the beginning of term again?" he asked enthusiast to see the Boy-Who-Lived in his establishment again.

"Not this time, Tom. We have urgent business with Gringotts." Explained Harry with a smile. "We'll be going out from here too, do you stay open even on Sundays?"

"I'll be waiting, Mr Potter." Quickly promised Tom. When Harry was about to persuade him otherwise, he rapidly continued. "I don't mind, I'll still be cleaning the place anyway. Nothing is more honourable than to help Mr Potter and his family."

Harry quickly thanked him and showed the way to the back door to his uncle and aunt. When they got to the deserted Alley, Vernon immediately started to question why the bartender had been so inclined to help him.

"When I left early two years ago, I stayed here. I helped Tom to tend to customer in exchange for staying in one of his rooms." They bought the lie and quickly pressed him to bring them to the bank.

They looked with a cross between disgust and curiosity at the different shop they passed on their way. But stayed silent until they got closer to the bank and suddenly Petunia read out loud:

"Enter stranger, but take heed,

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but did not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors,

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware,

Or finding more than treasure there."

"How dare they?" immediately started to fume his uncle.

Right then Harry knew he would have to use the slyness his Slytherin part gave him to trick Uncle Vernon into staying quiet and polite while they dealt with the goblin. So he made them stop in front of the bank.

"Uncle, Aunt, I have to warn you." Began Harry, green eyes full of worry.

"Warn us of what? Are you going to threaten us? Forget it! This money should be ours." Ranted Petunia. And as Vernon was about to start screaming himself, Harry continued.

"No, Aunt Petunia, only warn you about the goblins once again." That silenced his relatives and they started to listen to him strangely curious. "The Bank is considered as theirs. Which is why they can act upon their own laws if they see fit. Most wizard see them as you see us, but still acknowledge that crossing the goblins is always a bad idea. If you insult them openly or try to threaten them in anyway, they could take as a punishment to keep you and me from the money. I understand you don't really care for our world but we do have laws and everything concerning money is under theirs. I know how to deal with them, they seem to like me somehow so could I ask of you to let me deal with this and try to stay as polite as you are with Uncle Vernon's clients?" explained their young nephew. But Vernon seemed less than pleased with his speech.

"'as polite as I am with my clients'? I must have been too lenient with you if you start to compare such 'monsters' to us noble citizen." Said his Uncle is his voice starting to echo in the street.

"You misunderstood me Uncle. I am not saying this because I think we deserve so. I am asking for you to stay polite because this is purely business. And the goblin particularly like a polite tone and business behaviour from their clients. It's to make sure you get what is yours, Uncle." Finished Harry in a whisper, his eyes downcast in a show of submission and resignation.

His Uncle grunted and said he will try his best and the three of them walked into the bank. The green eyed wizard almost laughed out loud at how good he was at Slytherin techniques, and yet he could only act upon small matters like getting beat or inconsequent things. It seemed that Harry's near drowning experience in the darkness had allowed him to pick some useful traits. He knew instinctively what his Uncle wanted to hear. Maybe the monster hidden in his soul really wanted to help?

Harry shook his head as if to chase his dark tempting thoughts and walked to a teller. He was positively surprised when he recognised a familiar face.

"Good evening, Griphook. I was wondering why I wasn't seeing you during the day." He spoke with an ounce of cheerfulness that surprised his relatives.

"As you can see, Mr Potter. I have been working nights and weekends mostly. What can I do for you, Mr Potter?" asked the goblin as coldly as he had warned his relatives and he felt them shift behind him. Finally, trusting his words of warning when they noticed that even if their nephew acted friendly the 'monster' stayed cold and professional.

"I came to transfer my account content to the Muggle World, is there an accountant available?"

"Certainly, Mr Potter. If you and your guardians would follow me." He walked down his boot and guided them through a labyrinth of halls and corridors.

Harry had never been this deep inside Gringotts' halls. He took in the simple paintings, mostly patterns on a canvas, but still a bright and elegant contrast to the dark stone of the building. He read the names on each office door, finding a certain pattern in Goblins' naming sense until they arrived to a silver decorated door.

"Gringotts, is supervised by this accountant during the week-end and nights. He is also the only one available today. I have to inform you that he is one of the few that have the privilege to seat on our King council. Be aware of it in your dealings with him, Mr Potter." Griphook warned the young wizard, still stubbornly ignoring his relatives.

Green eyes focused on the goblin in understanding and determination. Only then Griphook nodded to the young man and opened the door, bowed and left after a last meaningful look at the Dursley's.

Harry looked to his Uncle and Aunt, and they both gave him a nod of understanding, at least believing in what he said, and trusting he knew best in this situation. It was so weird for them to put their trust in him, Harry had to purposefully drown the seed of hope that appeared in his soul. As if they would do it for him, of course his aunt and uncle were doing it for the money. They all entered the office and made their way to the three chairs sat in front of a massive desk.

The office was mostly bare, if not for the silver forged into the wood on the desk or the bookshelves that were overflowing with official looking files.

"Please sit down, Mr Potter, Mr and Mrs Dursley it's an honour to finally meet you." Spoke the goblin politely, put staying seated. "I am Lord of Silver, my name is Kiznaiver."

They all sat quietly. Only thanks to the magical reinforced chairs since they would have broken under the strain of his uncle weight. After a short silence, due more to both his and the goblin surprise at the wonder magic could do, Harry spoke. "I wish to transfer all my account to a Muggle one, my Uncle's to be more exact. Can it be done?"

"Of course, but you have to be aware of the particularity that the name Potter has concerning the transfer of full accounts to individuals that don't have the name Potter." Inquired Kiznaiver fully unaware that Harry had absolutely no idea of what he was talking about.

"I have to apologize but having been muggle raised I am not aware of any such requirement. Could you explain what that particularity you speak of pertain to?" asked the green eyed wizard as polite as he knew how to be.

First the goblin frowned at his lack of knowledge but finally smirked at him, apparently pleased with his politeness and began is explanation. "This requirement we speak of states that accounts can be moved only by an adult member of the Potter Family. As you are still a minor and your guardians doesn't bear the name Potter, we have to revert to another of these particularities. In the case, a minor heir wish to attribute an account to one individual such course of action is agreed upon only if the individual in question share blood with said heir. I understand this rule was made to keep anyone from outside the family to trick a young heir into giving away the family gold." Patiently explained Kiznaiver. They all understood that the rule was a good one, and probably what had kept Dumbledore from his vaults too, thought Harry.

"Then, do we have to procure you with a proof of our identity so the transfer can be made?" inquired his Uncle, rapidly coming to terms with the 'monsters' of the bank, that seemed to be efficient workers.

"Precisely, but any muggle document can't be received as proof as it can be falsified quite easily with magic, Mr Dursley. That is why I will have to ask for a drop of your wife blood, to prove she is most certainly Mr Potter's aunt."

Uncle Vernon nodded silently, but Aunt Petunia didn't present her hand to the goblin. She seemed suddenly quite skittish under Kiznaiver's gaze and he quickly informed her that the knife he was about to use would not let her feel any pain and would allow the wound to heal instantly when they had finished gathering her blood. But she still refused to give her hand to the goblin.

"Mrs Dursley is there a reason to refuse to abide to the testing of your blood?" Asked the Lord of Silver seeing that Harry instantly flinched, worried.

"Lily was adopted by our parents when she was six." Answered Petunia as if it should have been evident.

"Well, I am sorry to have to announce that it isn't enough, then. Had the adoption been done in the Wizarding world, it would have involved a ritual with which the child becomes a blood relative to the ones that adopted him. But as this adoption is a muggle one, it doesn't meet the requirement made by the Potter family. As Lady Potter has passed, to proceed with the transfer you would have either to be adopted into the Potter family, which can't be done as the unique member of the House is a minor. Or wait for said heir to reach his legal majority in about one year's time, if I recall?"

What the goblin said made sense, but his relatives seemed less than pleased to have to wait to get theirs hands on their money. Harry knew he would get punished for making them come all the way here for nothing. He saw his Uncle stand up and bidding farewell to Kiznaiver, he proceeded to follow his Uncle until a younger goblin walked into the office quickly to hand a piece of parchment to the Lord of Silver. The intruder quickly vanished back out, and Harry's Uncle was about to follow when Kiznaiver stopped them from leaving.

"I fear Mr Potter can't go back with you, Mr and Mrs Dursley."

"And why can't he? We took care of him until now didn't we?" declared Petunia her anger flashing in her eyes as she looked upon the 'monster' that had kept her from her money.

"According to Lord James Potter's will, Mr Potter was to not be placed with your family even if none of the others guardians could take him in. This was overruled by the Chief Warlock Dumbledore when the Wizengamot, our ruling court, proclaimed that Harry Potter would stay with his closest blood relative, rather than his secondary godfather Severus Snape because of his possible appartenance to the Death Eaters, or Remus Lupin for the motif of him being a werewolf. But as you admitted that you aren't in fact his blood relative, his guardianship revert to the will of his parents, which make Severus Snape his present guardian. That is why I cannot allow Mr Potter to go back with you."

The rage on his Uncle face that had built up with each and every word Kiznaiver had spoken, exploded in a tempest of insult on the magical population at large including the goblins to which he referred to as 'disgusting monsters with a freakish obsession for gold'. To say the least, the Lord of Silver was less than pleased with his relatives and armoured guards quickly proceeded to drag them out of the office, in the clear intention to throw them out of the bank. But as one of the goblins guards closed the door, Harry heard his Uncle curse him for 'they would now lose the money Dumbledore had given them to keep the freak in his place'.

Harry froze, as he had never imagined that the old man manipulations would run that deep. He had accused Fate to be the source of his treatment at Privet Drive. But the Headmaster had been paying them for all the beatings he received, all the insults, all the despair. Harry had rarely been angry, but the rage he felt in this moment made his heart pump the blood that had almost stagnated in the last few month, since his godfather's death.

Thankfully, his magic's focus was on closing his multiple wounds and mending fractured bones, so he avoided the usual magical storm that would come from his anger. Dumbledore's office had been almost destroyed from his last rage, the day he learnt about the prophecy. At that moment he had stopped believing the man was only trying as best he could to save a world about to give in. Even a fool wouldn't have hidden his destiny from Harry. He should have been told he could have no future unless he beat the snake Lord and train his whole life for that purpose. At least, he wouldn't have been made to hope in vain.

But again, paying the Dursley's to literally break him apart was something else entirely. Harry didn't doubt that the old goat had been behind it. Though, he couldn't help but fear what role his puppeteer had played in everything else. Could Dumbledore really be responsible for his Godfather's death? He had thought his paranoia was taking liberties, but maybe it was the truth. If the man had been twisted enough to pay a child's own family to torture him, it made only sense that he wouldn't shy away from killing said child only chance at happiness.

The suspicions invaded his mind once again, the liquid blackness of his soul rising in anger at the implications. Had Pettigrew betrayed his parents on his own or had the Headmaster stirred him in the right path? Maybe he had killed them himself to get to Harry?

But the brunt of the blow was that maybe, the prophecy he had been told about could be something else entirely. But it couldn't, the man had thought he had heard it from the globe itself. Could the reporting of a prophecy be false? He would have to check the process out then. Maybe Fate had at least, given a way out. Maybe this was his chance.

"Mr Potter, if you could take a seat, we presently have much to discuss it would seem." Spoke Kiznaiver bringing Harry back from his rage induced hopes.

Harry took the seat he had just left and waited for the Lord goblin to continue, only Kiznaiver called on a few younger goblins who came back after only moments with a strange instrument, files and potions.

"What is this all for?" blurted out the fifteen year old, the shock still heavy on his mind.

"From your former guardian's ranting as they left, I gathered that you may have not been treated as well as an heir to both of the most ancient and most noble house should be."

Harry didn't fail to notice that Kiznaiver had refused to refer to the Dursley as family any longer, nor the sarcasm that had accompanied the reference to pureblood speeches. He couldn't help but snort at the attempted humour. When he brought his eyes back to Kiznaiver, he noticed a smirk mirroring his own, before the Lord of Silver continued in a more serious tone.

"Mr Potter, as you are now fifteen rather than one year old, a few more choices are open to you. You see as you were wrongfully placed in the care of the Dursley, the discovery of their lack of family ties with you, give me the power to revoke the Chief Warlock status as your magical guardian, with your agreement only."

"My magical guardian? Dumbledore? Since when? I… I never knew." Questioned Harry wide-eyed.

"You weren't informed on your eleventh birthday of his status, then?" asked taking notes in one of the newly arrived filed.

"No, I only received my Hogwarts letter!" confirmed Harry. "What does it mean? For him to be my magical guardian I mean?"

"As your magical guardian, he was required by law to inform you of your magical heritage upon your eleventh birthday at the latest. This include, explaining to your legal guardians, the Dursley's, you're possible inscription to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, as well as the possibility to enrol in another school or even being home schooled. He should also have been the one to give you, access to your vault as he was the one guarding your key and teach you how to manage your finances in the magical world. Lastly, he was in charge to take care of all matters regarding your health. As most wizard become quite sick from muggle medicine, he should have taken you to a wizard healer every time he deemed necessary." Finished the goblin.

Harry then understood that the Dumbledore had most certainly chose the put him in the Dursley's care knowing they would hate their nephew. He had expected them to abuse him and even paid them to urge them on. And on top of it all, the old man had been blessed with the considerable advantage of becoming Harry's magical guardian. If Harry had never had considered murdering the Headmaster, well he was sure as hell doing it now.

"I want Dumbledore to be revoked as my magical guardian." Stated Harry, anger clearly heard in his voice.

"Very well, as to justify such endeavour, you are required to state the reasons you believe he doesn't deserve such status anymore." Asked Kiznaiver unexpectedly gentle.

"Firstly, I was abused for as long as I can remember. And claiming he didn't know won't work, even though it was his duty to check up on me before I came to Hogwarts. At the end of first year, I pleaded him to let me stay at Hogwarts because my relative didn't feed me and beat me daily. He only said it couldn't be as bad as I was painting it to be and added that he had no legal rights to intrude on a familial matter. Secondly, when I was first informed of magical school was when I received my Hogwarts letter, I never knew I could have enrolled in another school nor what that school was even. After I failed to respond to the letter to accept my inscription, Hagrid was sent to bring me another letter that I finally got the opportunity to read. When I asked if I would still be accepted even if I hadn't responded in time. I was told the 'Dumbledore wouldn't have it any other way'. Finally my vault key was first handed to me by Hagrid and each year after by Mrs Weasley, and I was never told how much I own or if money was still being used from my vault or anything really. And I have more than enough reason to believe that Dumbledore actually tried to get the little money I own for his damned Order and manipulated the whole Wizengamot to have guardianship shifted to the Dursley to make me easier to manipulate when I got to Hogwarts!" Raged Harry, panting with anger. The bloody Headmaster had made his life so much more difficult than it had needed to be.

"I understand. I hereby revoke Albus Dumbledore status as Harry Potter's magical guardian." Spoke the goblin regally. Harry felt magic intervene and cutting of a link to his core he had never been aware of, the action made Harry panic with what Dumbledore would do. Kiznaiver reading the anxiety on the young man face, quickly clarified.

"Dumbledore won't be aware of the change. No one will until I send those files to the ministry. And even then if you wish to keep the documents secret, they can be sealed so that every person that will treat them will not be able to speak of them." He finally proposed.

"I would like that, Lord of Silver." Answered Harry, calmer and obviously thankful.

"Kiznaiver, will do young one. Now I will gladly inform you of your financial status in the wizarding world, but we have more urgent matters to attend first. Your legal guardian is presently Severus Snape. But as a fifteen year old, if you can state sound reason for which you should not be placed in his guardianship, your legal guardian would become Remus Lupin." Kiznaiver held up his hand to stop Harry from launching himself in another rant about another of his tormentor. "And should you found reasons to keep Remus Lupin from being your magical guardian also, I could then offer you the possibility to stay in goblin guardianship until your sixteen birthday in two weeks' time. As a sixteen year old wizard, you will be able to file for emancipation, Mr Potter." Explained Kiznaiver.

Harry then understood why the Lord had stopped him from interrupting. Emancipation was in fact his best option knowing he was the Boy-who-Bloody-wouldn't-Die.

"I will file for emancipation, Kiznaiver. Snape used the excuse that he had to teach me Occlumency to make me suffer from his spelling for hours each week of the last school year. To say, I didn't learn much Occlumency would be an understatement, if I had done any learning he would have brought my protection to shambles with the strength of his assaults. And as far as Remus Lupin is concerned, I personally have nothing against the man. But his trust in Dumbledore is dangerous. Just because the old man said I would be safer in the Dursley's care, Remus let him place me there even though he was well aware of how much Petunia hate all things magical. To make him my magical guardian would be as good as giving Dumbledore the title back." Testified the young wizard ending his speech with a profound sigh.

Kiznaiver could see in his green eyes that the young one was beyond tired. He wished for an end that wouldn't come until the wizard populace decided it was alright for him to disappear. The Lord could only hope giving the young one his freedom back would bring him back to saner plane of thoughts.

"I will petition to the King to have you placed under my guardianship until your birthday. You shall stay here in Gringotts and no one other than your former guardians, the King, you and I shall know where you are. Now we can't start any legal action against your headmaster and the Dursley's until you are formally Head of your house. The day is still young and we are probably both too upset by the recent events to sleep. Why don't we distract ourselves with something else, so maybe we could check for any inheritance. I could instruct you about your finances and your status in the magical world." Proposed the noble goblin, clearly taking a like in Harry.

"I would like that very much, Kiznaiver." Harry said with a smile, he hadn't gave with sincerity since before his godfather had passed.

Kiznaiver handed him a knife they used to draw blood and explained it would not cause any pain and heal the cut immediately after the need blood was collected. Kiznaiver asked him to fill a full potion vial with his blood. Once done, the goblin proceed to drop three drops back into a silver bowl, Harry could recognize runes carved into it but couldn't understand them as he had never taken the course. Once again a field of magic he knew nothing about.

The goblin quickly added a potion to the mix and took a new piece of parchment where he dumped the content of the bowl on. With a glow that took some time to receded, the parchment revealed words. But when Harry saw Kiznaiver frown, he knew something was not as it should be.

"It seems Mr Potter that you have inherited much more than I expected." Kiznaiver commented as he could finally read the document. "You are obviously the Potter heir. You seem to also have inherited the title of Head of house from your godfather. And another three title to join them and make you sole heir to the Potter, Black, Gryffindor, Lefay, and Peverell families. It seems you also became heir to the Slytherin House thanks to wizarding law. The fact, that the Dark Lord is sought out as a renowned criminal granted you the title of heir in his stead. Do you have any knowledge of these families, Mr Potter?" asked Kiznaiver, having clearly slipped into some sort of teaching mode.

"I know the names but I was unaware, I was a descent of Gryffindor. I didn't believe Morgana Lefay had truly existed though. And I found the Peverell armoires on the cloak I inherited from my dad but never found any information about them. And even if I was almost sorted in Slytherin, I never imagined it was because I was one of their descendant." Said Harry quite confused.

"Well that isn't much, is it?" commented the goblin, before he launch himself in explanation. "Let's start with the Potter and the Black. They are both families titled as most Noble and most Ancient. Those titles were not bestowed upon the families when they were known as Potter and Black. The titles of most Noble can only be given for service to the Crown. At the time, the Potters were known as Gryffindor and the Blacks as Lefay. They then gained their Ancient and later on most Ancient, thanks to longevity of their lines. Being one of the most Ancient House means that your house as existed for a millennium. Quite a feat in fact, the Black have a history of 1123 years long, the Potters of 1065 years, the Slytherin House also have the title with 1068 years of longevity. To make it clearer to you how important that title is, you should know that they are the only British wizarding families that have gained the title yet, after them comes the Malfoy family with only 999 years. Not quite most Ancient yet, but since they have passed the cap of the 500 years they have been titled an Ancient House." Harry took the opportunity, seeing a pause in the goblin lecture to ask.

"You spoke of service to the Crown? Do you know how they got the title? And I never knew their used to be a royal wizarding family." He inquired more curious of the wizarding world history that he had ever been.

"The Potter heir saved one of the Crown advisor's son from drowning if I recall well, and the Blacks used to be in charge of diplomacy within the wizarding nations for the Crown so they were warranted the title after a few generations of good service." Clarified Kiznaiver. "Now, concerning the Crown, the Crown is actually still very much present. And the title doesn't pertain to a family like most wizard are inclined to believe but to only one person still believed to be alive to this day."

"You mean that the Wizard's King is still alive and letting the Ministry rule in his stead? Even when the Ministry, is doing such a lousy job and Voldemort is going around killing his subjects?" asked Harry, suddenly infuriated by the inaction of said King.

"Not a King, Mr Potter, a Queen and more of an Empress really, as she was the one brought all the eight high nations of magical creatures together even before the Wizards came into existence. She is in no way a Wizard ruler, for she has not a drop of human blood in her. Unlike wizard belief, the magical creature had existed for centuries before the human appeared of the face of the earth. But among them the eight original race are the oldest, and our Empress is said to be as old as magic herself. Some even go as far as to believe she shall walk the surface of the world until all that is magic has disappeared." Said Kiznaiver reverently.

"But still, she let the ministry persecute the werewolves and Voldemort kill muggleborn and half blood, if she is still alive why isn't she doing something?" inquired Harry, still not understanding why the goblin respected her so when she had abandoned them to the Ministry's authority.

"It may be a little hard to understand for you, Mr Potter. But the Empress was a magical creature. One of great power from the stories I have been told. And she ruled for centuries, millenniums even, but the Empress ruled alone. You must be aware of a veela's fate should they stay unmated?" asked the goblin suddenly grim.

"They wither as they magic leave them, and they die." Declared Harry coldly, trying not to let himself appear too emotional on the matter.

"Well, our Empress is a magical creature, part veela some say, and the need for a mate made her weak over the centuries, but still she never found one. Some legends say that she had one once but he died to save her life and she has yet to have found another mate since. History relate that some centuries ago, she got too weak to rule and created the High Council and their Ministries. The system should have been sound, she had chosen three representatives of each races to seat in the High Council a senate of sort, to speak of all the greater matters of our world and under them ruled one Ministry for each country. But the wizards quickly outnumbered the magical creatures and they took over the Ministries and began to restrict the magical creature freedoms for they feared their greater powers. The magical creatures quickly reverted to their own realm and the High Council evicted the wizards from their seat. But that was all that could be done without going to war, and that would have been against the Empress wishes.

"Sadly even the Empress can't help us, as she fell to a deep sleep a few years after she put this system in place. Those that knew where she was hidden, died to protect her from the wizards that wished to make sure she wouldn't come back to take the power they had taken for themselves. So now the Empress is sleeping away the little time she has left, alone in some forgotten hideaway." Kiznaiver seemed almost as sad as if he had known her himself. "You have to understand Mr Potter, never speak wrong of her in front of a magical creature. I understood that your lack of knowledge was what made you speak ill of our ruler. But remember than even if the Wizards have forgotten to her very existence, to us, she brought peace and equality, she grounded the lightest and accepted the darkest, she saw no good or evil, she only saw magic. She taught my own race the art of warding. The elders of the goblins say she was one with magic, a goddess sent to guide us, to teach us the real magic of this world and we failed her, and that is why magic cursed us to serve the Wizards. Because we failed to protect her, we lost her, and she will now die alone. To the magical races, there is nothing as sacred as the Empress, she was so revered even before she became our ruler that when she was crowned the People were the one that titled her, the Empress of Magic they named her."

Harry couldn't really bring his head around the fact that someone could bring out so much loyalty out of the magical races. He couldn't really understand what she was to them as he had never imagined someone like that could exist. Like him, she had done her best, the better she had done the more tired she had become. Only because people had expected it out of her. How he wished he could join her in her sleep and wait for his end, in his dreams. It seemed like a good end. A better one than magic had fated him with anyway!

"I apologize, I never knew. Thank you for telling me about her, I shall admire her as much as I can. She seems to have been a great ruler. May she wake and save herself and us all." Harry surprised himself by speaking that very last sentence. He hadn't planned on saying it, it had flown from his mouth so naturally.

"This is a saying of the People, Mr Potter. Your magic seems to be more in tune with the world than common wizards. Maybe you have some magical creature blood that you will inherit on your birthday." Informed him the goblin with a faint smile.

"How do you inherit creature blood?" asked Harry back to his curiosity for the world he had never been taught about.

"Most magical creatures including wizards have their magic naturally bound to allow their bodies to develop without the strain of too much magic. So the day they become adult, which means finish to grow their bodies, they're magic is unbound. This phenomenon is what we call a magical inheritance. Wizard are a particular case though, as wizards came from the union between a magical creature and a muggle, every wizard has magical creature blood in them. Which is why, when a magical child was born with magic especially in tune with one of the creature is has blood from, on the day of their magical inheritance, the wizard revert to the magical creature he got his powers from. Wizard call it a magical creature inheritance."

"So that means that I may become a creature on my sixteen birthday?" asked Harry quite worried of what would happen if he became one of the creature the Ministry had a kill on sight order on.

"It depends on the creature blood, Mr Potter. As every magical creature doesn't reach maturity of their bodies at the same age. This could happen on your sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth birthday. But don't worry, I can determine if you truly will have a magical creature inheritance and had already plan to do so that is why I asked for an entire vile of your blood, Mr Potter." Kiznaiver reassured him, quite pleased with himself to have been so considerate.

This time he grabbed for the strange object that the goblins had brought him earlier. It seemed like a muggle test tube had been put on a balance instead of scales. Kiznaiver poured what was left of his blood in the tube and put the lid back on the middle of tube's length. At once, it began to balance, dropping to the left before dropping to the right, it did so a few times before it stayed on the left and the magic Harry had felt interact with the artefact receded.

"Well, sixteenth birthday it is. Now let's see what you will become, shall we?" said the goblin as he detached the glass tube from the balance and tipped it so the blood spilled on fresh parchment producing a glow once again.

"So what does it says?" asked Harry impatiently. Half excited to know what he will become and half afraid of the problems it could bring.

"Well, it seems you will be a Grey elf, Mr Potter. Quite rare I have to say." Declared Kiznaiver, when he noticed the young man looking at him expectantly. He chuckled, understanding that Harry had no idea what an elf was, much less a grey elf. "You see, Mr Potter. Elf are a lot like the ones painted in muggle literature. Only they are two classes of Elves, the Light and the Dark ones. A Grey elf is the child brought from the mix between the two classes, which doesn't happen often. You see the two classes have been at war often in the years before the Empress rule and even though peace came between them they still arbour great anger against each other. For a Dark or Light elf to have mated into your family even after one of the opposite class had is quite rare." Explained the unusual teacher.

"I see, what do you know about Grey Elves and what's the difference between Light and Dark Elves?" asked the young one hesitantly, visibly not quite comfortable with the Dark aspect of his heritage.

"Mr Potter, once again, wizards misunderstand the meaning of Dark and Light. Dark doesn't mean evil and Light doesn't mean good. For example, We Goblins are a Light race, but that doesn't keep the Wizards to see us as evil does it?" commented Kiznaiver with a smile.

"I guess not…"

"Well the difference with the Elves reside with their belief more than anything. The Dark Elves admire the Moon where the Light Elves worship the Sun. Magically, Elves are stronger during the time their class star his out in the sky. And the way they use their magic is also different but not the spells or their intentions. Dark Elves don't wish for the destruction of the Light ones just because they are Light. Their conflict actually started with the Light Elves, when young nobles found amusing to destroy a Moon Temple. That's how the war between the two classes began." Instructed the kind goblin in a smile at the irony of what he was teaching his young charge.

Harry too smiled and then even laughed since the Dark evil Elves had gone to war to protect their deity, quite nobly un-evil then.

"How did the war end then?" asked Harry curious about the history of his future race.

"The Empress of Magic appointed a Grey Elf as king."

As soon as the words were spoken, both goblin and wizard burst into laughter. How diplomatic of her to put one of the rare individual that couldn't be faulted for his difference since he had none. He had both the characteristics of Light and Dark, if he was King and said to cease the conflict, no one could fault him to take the other side as an excuse to not listen to his orders.

"She was quite the ruler wasn't she?" joked Harry.

"So much more than anyone could ever be." Answered Kiznaiver once again his tone full of admiration.

"Is there a difference in being born Grey Elf and coming into an inheritance as one?" he finally asked as he regain his breath.

"None outside from the perks your magic give you as being born wizard." Once again Kiznaiver was only met with curiosity so he went back to his lecture. "You see Wizard are naturally a Grey race, the human blood in them seem to counterbalance the magical blood no matter how Dark or how Light it is. Thanks to this particular aspect of their genetics, Wizards have the privilege to be able to use every field of magic. For example, a born Grey Elf would be able to use only very basic Blood magic, but you as a wizard-born Grey Elf will be able to acquire a Master level in it. Each races have affinities with particular fields of magic, but only the Wizards can be proficient in every one of them. But as a counterbalance to this advantage, Wizard are less magically and physically powerful than magical creatures, and even though they can learn to use every field of magic, they can only use spells to the Master level of the Art. I believe the Wizard have since then even forgotten that it is possible to acquire higher status in an art, but it wouldn't really help the magical races to remind them, would it?" finished the noble goblin in a smirk.

Silence came to the office, as Harry processed all he had learned. So for the Elves, being Dark only means they used their magic differently, Kiznaiver had said. But what of the others races, what of the wizards? Harry was about to ask when his eye caught sight of the folders that had been brought in by the younger goblins. He saw on with the name Peverell written and was reminded the goblin had yet to speak of the last families he was heir to.

"Kiznaiver, what of the Peverell family? We have yet to speak about them." asked Harry, getting more and more curious the more he learnt.

"Oh, you are right, Mr Potter. The Peverell family was actually titled Keeper of the Realm by the Empress herself as she chose that family as one to seat in the High Council. Sadly, the Peverell were the only wizarding family titled such which brought jealousy from the rest of the wizarding populace. When the High Council evicted the Wizard from their ranks, the Peverell were not welcomed into wizarding society as they had been against taking over the Empress' system. So after, many attempt to kill the line, the family finally disappeared after an attack where the head of the family and his two eldest son died. It was said that the third son had managed to escape thanks to a familial heirloom and sought asylum in one of their allied family. But it was never confirmed. At the time the Potters had been one of their allies so my guess is that the last of the Peverell was probably adopted by the Potters." Lectured Kiznaiver once again, before his curiosity was ticked for once by Harry as he read understanding dawn in the young one eyes.

"He used the cloak, so the deathly hallows really exist then?" asked Harry eagerly.

"I heard rumours that the children tale about the three brothers that were gifted artefacts from death herself, were in fact the Peverell but no one ever found proof as the Wizards had killed the line and the last of them was lost. Would you mind telling me more about that cloak you speak of?" Inquired the goblin as eager as Harry. The green eyed wizard only smiled as he tugged on the pouch he took everywhere with him, out from under his shirt. He opened it and took out the cloak and handed him to the gentle goblin.

"It's the cloak of invisibility I inherited from my father, a family heirloom Dumbledore told me." Declared Harry, shrugging his shoulder when he mentioned the information from Dumbledore since it couldn't be trusted anymore.

"This cloak is unlike any other I have seen. There is no spell on this cloak, Mr Potter." Commented Kiznaiver mesmerized by the heirloom.

"But how can it turn me invisible then?" asked Harry confused.

"I would also very much like to know, Mr Potter. It seems the fabrics itself has such properties but I can't identify it and I used to work in textile appraisal before I earned a seat on the King council. There should be no textile that I don't know but here it is. This is most certainly a mysterious artefact." Explained the goblin, talking about himself for the first time, in their long conversation.

"Then this is really a Deathly Hallow?" asked Harry suddenly fearful of what this could entail, accepting the cloak back.

"I do think this is the artefact the story was made to tell about, but I doubt the entirety of the tale should be taken as the truth, Mr Potter. If your father and then you, managed to live your lives without death coming every now and then to ask of you to die. I believe the tale must be somewhat false." Joked Kiznaiver in an attempt to reassure Harry, that obviously worked when the young wizard started to chuckle.

"As long as Voldemort doesn't reveal himself as death itself, I think you are right Kiznaiver." Said the young one in humour.

"We skipped lunch, and it's almost the end of my shift, Mr Potter. Let me file these documents, and I will show you to my chambers. You are lucky, as I am a noble my apartments are above ground. As a Grey Elf you need the light of the sun and moon to keep you healthy, being underground would have added to the abuse you already received. I will take you to our healers tomorrow afternoon, as I believe you will be asleep for a while now that you seem less tense." Smiled Kiznaiver knowingly.

"Will it be alright with your family that I am staying with you? I could rent a room somewhere, I can afford it." Proposed Harry, suddenly worried to intrude on the Lord.

"As a Ward of the goblins, our King's law require that you stay under gobblin lodging until you cease to be so. And I certainly don't mind, you are respectful and polite, curious and kind. You make a fine young one, I am sure my mate will like you very much once she has met you. She feels quite lonely you see our children, are all old enough to apprentice for their career already. That is why I proposed to take the night supervision. So by day I can spend more time with her." Revealed Kiznaiver, obviously trusting Harry a lot.

"It's really sweet of you, Kiznaiver. I really hope she will like me then, after you helped me so much." He said really thankful for what the goblin had done for him.

Kiznaiver quickly finished to file the papers and explained to Harry that he could be taught the goblin's customs and their language if he wished to. Harry was more than pleased to be able to learn another language. They also agreed that Kiznaiver would use Harry's account to hire him a tutor about Wizarding laws and Pureblood etiquette and customs. He also promised to try to found a creature able to teach Harry more about his upcoming Grey Elf inheritance.

Another goblin interrupted them to take over from Kiznaiver, and after a little bit of explaining in Gobbledegook, the Lord of Silver guided Harry through Gringotts deeper hallways. After a few flight of stairs, Kiznaiver opened a door to a set of ravishing rooms. The silver accents being brought out by the dark blue walls and textiles, and white carpet and furniture. Like the goblins it was full of taste but still efficiently organised. The room was an open space including a dinner table a kitchen and a living room. Big windows let the sun's light enter the room from either side to a massive marble fireplace.

Kiznaiver showed him a door as they crossed the room saying it was his own chamber. He directed Harry to the one across the space from his and said this was Harry's rooms until he had to leave. He opened the door for Harry, and the young discovered that the style was the same as the precedent room, only the dark blue had been replaced by emerald, Harry couldn't help that he loved the room even if it had Slytherin's colours. He thanked Kiznaiver and after the goblin promised he would send someone to get his belongings from the Dursley, left him to go to sleep.

The new goblin ward found a door on the left wall, next to his desk, and opened it to find a bathroom made of dark stone, silver appliance and emerald coloured accessories. He took a quick shower, but before he could think to take his bathroom robe off and make use of the few emergency clothes he kept in his pouch, he jumped on the bed, curled in the warm spelled textile, and slipped under the cover. Before he could thank his luck to have provided him with the long awaited opportunity to break free from Fate, he fell asleep as soon as he let his head dropped on the cushions.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - So you swear so you should be bound

The next day, a knock preceded by a few steps on a carpet and a soft voice was what awoke him. His body heated up a little to much because of the soft comforter and the hot midday sunlight. He pushed the comforter away from him, when he heard the voice speak once again in a chuckle.

"Too hot then? You seem to have slept well, young one. My husband is waiting for you before eating so dress up will you? I would loath to let my dear Kiz, starve to death," informed him a small young looking goblin. Well, she looked like a cute little girl with long dropping pointed ears and a pointy big nose. But she was unexpectedly cute. Especially with the look she had in her big sparkling sky blue eyes, as she spoke of 'her dear Kiz'. Long curly golden braided hair moved around her shoulders as she smoothed out some wrinkles in his bed covers, before making her way to leave. Harry snorted at the thought making the cute goblin woman look back at him from the door way, with a curious look.

"I'm sorry, I'll dress up immediately. It only surprised me that someone as regal and serious as your husband could manage to have a nickname as cute as 'Kiz'." Harry explained laughing again.

Luckily, said 'Kiz''s wife found Harry's surprise as funny as he, because she began to laugh herself, closing the door behind her to let him dress. Not wanting to make his guardians wait, Harry quickly took out some clothes from his pouch and after a short trip to the bathroom to shower, he left his bedroom. The six-person dinner table was half full of dishes. A lot of delicious looking fruits and pastry, along with some bacon and eggs.

"Good morning, Kiznaiver. Madame, I am Harry Potter, your husband made me the honour of taking me as a ward last night. I have to apologize for I do not know you name yet, Lady of Silver."

"Aw, such a polite young one, Kiz, you chose well I'm proud of you," said the little woman to her husband before taking Harry's hand and making him sit at her husband left. She rounded the table and sat right in opposite of Harry, she smiled as she said. "I am Systran, feel free to eat as much as you want and ask if you feel like eating something else. My husband told me about how those horrible humans treated you. You don't have to worry here, this will be your home until you chose otherwise, " promised Systran, her eyes shining with unshed tears in care for him.

"See, told you she wouldn't mind," commented Kiznaiver mockingly.

"You did." Harry answered in wonder as he watched Kiznaiver's wife fill his plate with a little of all there was on the table.

"Is there anything you don't like or are allergic to? Or maybe a particular thing you are afraid of or cannot stand?" inquired said wife. Systran was truly happy to have him here. She seemed to be the kind to care easily for people and her kindness was so tender.

"No, I am not a picky eater and I don't think I am allergic to anything. If there is something, it would be that I cannot be without my wand. I feel too defenceless without it," explained Harry gingerly, a lot more embarrassed by this confession than he should be.

"Don't worry, when you come into your inheritance, you won't need a wand to do magic. And the wards on Gringotts are the best there is for Wizards, you are safe here. You are the only one outside from our family with access to these rooms, and only Kiz and I can enter your room. You are perfectly protected here." She reassured him gently, the certainty in her tone assured him that he was really safe here. Adding the wards to the fact that no one knew where he was.

They ate a light brunch as they discussed a little about the goblins customs. Apparently as a ward of the Goblin Kingdom, Harry was now seen as a goblin citizen and would keep the status even after leaving the Silver's care. Kiznaiver and Systran told him that some of the goblins would act suspicious at first, but no one would even think of harming him, since he was a member of the Silver family now. It was also a custom for wards to be taught the way of the goblins, which made Harry even happier to have accepted Kiznaiver's offer to be taught Gobbledegook the night before.

After they had all finished, Systran insisted they waited for her to clean so she could come with them to the healers. Harry helped her with the cleaning of the kitchen, and told her he could help her with the cleaning of the house as he was used to do it. She had agreed to let him help with cleaning the meal but had said it was only because they could go to the healers quicker. "Managing the household is my job." Systran had told him proudly.

They soon left the Silver's rooms as it was apparently named, and proceeded to use an elevator he never knew Gringotts possessed. Each floors was attributed to a vocation. The healers used one of the deeper ones, to keep them safe from attacks, had explained Kiznaiver immediately.

The medical ward was made of the same stone that could be found everywhere in Gringotts, only interrupted by stark white doors. Before, Harry could even attempt to read the Gobbledegook's signs, they were welcomed by an older goblin.

"Lord, Lady of Silver, I will have the pleasure of treating your ward. I was chosen by the King for my extensive knowledge in several of the races. If you would follow me," introduced the old goblin before directing them through the halls.

"It is custom for a commoner to state the reason they were appointed to serve a noble house and by whom. It aid to show their proficiency in their trade and from whom they are already respected by." Systran commented in a whisper at Harry who nodded his head thankfully.

They walked into an examination room and all sat around the desk in one corner of the room.

"My name is Darriger, I will be in charge of your health during your stay in Gringotts, Mr. Potter. Is there a particular matter that needs to be brought to my attention?" Harry was about to say no when Systran took her chance.

"He was badly abused by his former guardian, we would like to know if the damage as healed correctly and if it is maybe why his growth was stunted," said the goblin woman worriedly.

"Harry is supposed to be of Elven heritage and yet he is barely taller than us goblins. Then there is the matter of his magical creature inheritance in two weeks' time," clarified Kiznaiver, his tone as worried as his wife had acted.

"I understand I will do a full examination then. Then I ask for permission to search for lingering spells' effects also, just to make sure everything is in order," asked the healer, his demeanour has cold as when the meeting had started but now Harry could see a hint of anger in his eyes.

As soon as Kiznaiver gave his agreement, Harry was made to sit on the examination bed. Before Darriger began to cast, he asked Harry again.

"Is there anything else I should be made aware of? Any exposition to dangerous creature or substances? Any spell cast that could impede a healer diagnosis? Anything that comes to mind?" asked the healer seriously.

"Hum, I not sure if it's important but I react badly to dementors," admitted Harry.

"How badly?" inquired Kiznaiver from behind Darriger.

"I can feel if they get close a lot sooner than others, and they make me hear screams and faint. When they were in Hogwarts to search for Sirius Black, it was so bad that my DADA teacher had to teach me the Patronus Spell." Explained Harry.

"Alright, that could mean you have quite the affinity with death magic, unusual for an elf but not that strange as you did survive the Killing Curse. The event must have brought you much closer to dying than we had been led to believe. Anything else?" explained the healer expertly.

"Hum, a phoenix healed the wound but I was beaten by a Basilisk in second year," said Harry not sure it was relevant.

"What?" exclaimed Systran. "And Dumbledore never brought you to a healer?"

"Well, I saw the school nurse after but she never spoke of it so I figured she didn't notice and that the phoenix tears healed me completely. I still have a nasty scar though" commented Harry in the end, he had always wondered … "hum… Healer Darriger, is it normal for the wound to have scarred since phoenix are supposed to heal almost anything." He asked not quite sure how to speak to the old goblin.

"Well, theirs tears does heal a lot but mostly wounds and poisons, there is also a few spells to manipulate de mind. But Basilisk venom is as strong a deadly substance as the tears heal, I have to add this to my diagnosis. Both substances are most likely still in your organism counter-balancing one another," explained the healer patiently and quite interested in the matter it seemed. "Anything else?"

"Hum, could you do something to cut off the link I have to Voldemort?" suddenly asked Harry, putting his trust in the goblin healer.

"What do you mean by link?" asked Darriger.

"Last year, he sent me visions both truth and lies, and since my godfather's death I am even able to see what he sees when he is particularly angry or really pleased. That's why I had to take lesson from Snape and get legilimenced left and right all year," explained Harry directed the last comment to Kiznaiver.

"Lord of Silver, if you would agree to a scan of his mind to make sure that it wasn't harmed by the legilimency of either Potion Master Snape or Dark Lord Riddle," said Darriger, asking his guardian for permission once again.

With a nod from Kiznaiver, and one last certification that he had been told everything from Harry, the healer started his diagnosis. He cast spell after spell, and Harry felt only slightly the magic probe at his own as if it was asking for something. Suddenly the feeling left him and he saw that Darriger had a pile of parchment in his hand. "If you would take a seat with your guardian Mr. Potter."

Harry followed him back to his desk and sat again between Systran and Kiznaiver. Which immediately proceed to ask for the healer opinion. "So is my ward healthy, Healer Darriger?"

"I actually cannot say he is. I will have to break a few bones that your magic has healed but weren't set at the right angle." He said to Harry as he was the most concerned. "A few of your organs have suffered from extensive damage but where healed by your magic, however the frequency of these occurrences has kept your magic from healing more than the bare minimum to keep them from failing you, adding to that is the starvation you were put under, I fear you will have to be under quite a few potion for the next half year, Mr. Potter. I can promise a full recovery of your organs and I will reset your bones today, most of the scaring will also disappear once you come into inheritance. The exception being the dragon claw scar on your shoulder, the basilisk bite in your right arm, and obviously your lightening shaped scar. Your inheritance should rid you of all the others, as well as correct your eyesight.

"Now concerning your mind, as an Elf you should have natural Occlumency clouding your mind, even if they won't be the most reliable they should be enough to keep the average wizard out of it and will be completed on the day of your inheritance. Those shields are actually already in the process of building themselves around your mind and have been for the last year. For this reason, you were unable to build any other protection. Furthermore Potion Master Snape multiple violation of your mind as destroyed a piece of those natural walls with every attempt, which is why the spelling must have been quite painful for you." With a nod of understanding from Harry, the healer continued. "As a result of his attack on your mind the natural walls will be much weaker than they should so I would advise on learning proper Occlumency once you had your inheritance.

"Lastly, you are currently under extensive spelling from the one I have identified as the Chief Warlock Dumbledore." Before anyone could interrupt him to demand answer, the healer went on apparently refusing to be stopped in his report. "The Wizard has multiple compulsion charms put on you, Mr. Potter. One evoking trust to the Order of the Phoenix, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Molly Weasley, Ginevra Weasley, as well as himself. Another to provoke great dislike for the Slytherin House, Severus Snape, Draco Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, and Dark Lord Voldemort. One last recent compelling charm was to make you develop romantic feeling for Ginevra Weasley. The others all date from the first school year. Among those, you have quite a few magical abilities bound by Albus Dumbledore. He has bound your ability to use Necromancy, Parselmagic, and Summoning as well as Metamorphmagus, Animagus and eidetic powers. Furthermore, bound this time by Sirius Black, is your natural Legillimency abilities. Lastly, bound by Lily Potter, are your bearer status as well as mild seer proficiency. The three last mentioned abilities, Sirius Black and Lily Potter used a spell to keep them from being discovered on common diagnosis spells and to become unbound once you reach your magical maturation."

Once the healer had finished Harry couldn't bring himself to react to the announcement. More than feeling even more betrayed by the Headmaster, Harry couldn't help but wonder why his mother and godfather had chosen to bound those particular abilities and none of the ones the old wizard had judged too dangerous to let him use. Surely, Necromancy at least, would have warranted to be kept bound until he was old enough to use it responsively. His attention was brought back to the room as he heard the healer continue his speech.

"I will remove all spelling done on your mind and powers if you wish it to be done. Obviously, Albus Dumbledore had no business going around sealing your abilities. But a bit of explanation about said abilities would do much good I believe. Firstly, I'll have you know that refusing to let some of your abilities being unbound wouldn't only last until your inheritance. As the phenomenon would force your abilities to come forth. Now I guess you are familiar with at least Animagus and Metamorphmagus powers." With another nod from Harry, Darriger went on. "Parselmagic is mostly the ability to cast in Parseltongue. Sealing your Necromancy proficiency though, means that the other core that you were born with to be able to use death magic as withered in the years it was unused. I recommend to unbound it today so the death magic can flow through it again, making it possible for your inheritance to heal some of the damage," proposed Darriger.

"But isn't death magic dangerous? I don't know how to control it, is it safe to just unbound it?" asked Harry fearfully.

"Young Mr. Potter, do you need to assess control over your natural magic constantly?" asked the goblin quite harshly.

"Hum, no, I guess no." He answered.

"Well death magic is the same, it will only flare when your magic does. Only it will flare in its stead to protect you when your natural magical levels are too low to do so. The only difference really is that instead of breaking furniture and windows, the death magic exposition cause the same effects as a dementor does to any untrained magical being in the art. You, of course, won't be affected to your own magic, the only repercussion is your sensibility to others death magic. But with training you will learn to block it from coming to close, or harness it as your own. Do not worry, I wouldn't propose it if I knew you couldn't control it," reassured the cold healer. "Now Summoning is of no concern since it is a field of spell casting, and as I am not familiar with the Art in itself, I will leave to you to find information on your own. Finally concerning the abilities bound by Sirius Black and Lily Potter. I believe they made a judicious choice. It seems Sirius Black bound your natural Legillimency around last summer. Were you made aware of it, Mr. Potter?" asked the healer curiously.

"No, I wasn't," quickly answered Harry.

"I am," proclaimed Kiznaiver. "It was spoken about in the letter, he left to Harry's magical guardian in the possibility that Albus Dumbledore lost the status or to Harry himself when he came to his magical majority. I read it just before brunch," explained Kiznaiver. "I seems your godfather chose to seal the ability to hide it from Dumbledore as he knew he would use it without taking account of your wishes."

"One of our sons, is a natural legillimens. I will ask him to teach you how to use it," promised Systran, smiling at him gently.

"Now as to your Seer abilities and your bearer status, they were bound just a few days after your birth by your mother, Lily Potter. A good thing since it would have made you even more sought after by the wrong people than you currently are. Your proficiency in the Sight should only be a very good hunch and instinct as well as the ability to detect lies and half-truth. So you shouldn't have to worry too much about it. Your bearer status however is a predisposition from your magical creature inheritance, it seems you will become a submissive upon your birthday Mr. Potter," declared the healer finally with a faint smile.

"A submissive elf? What does that mean?" asked Harry curiously.

"That means that you will be the one bearing the young in your future relationship," explained Systran, quite cheerful at the prospect of seeing Harry in a relationship.

"Oh! I guess I don't mind, I didn't know that men could have children though," commented Harry.

"No men can have children Harry, only submissive magical creatures can, may they be females or males. And the young they bear is always gifted with magic. This is why a bearer is so valuable to wizards, since a bearer can't produce squibs. But they have this ability even before their inheritance. So they are usually forcefully bonded to a wizard before they become adults. Then they can't search for they mate and are forced to spend their life with the wizard they are bound to. Their naturally submissive nature make them more incline to accept orders from their bonded which often allow them to sell the bearer's gift to other wizards. Quite barbaric really, your mother was right to seal it from being diagnosed until you reach majority," lectured Kiznaiver, a dark look on his face.

Darriger then made quick work of setting his bones straight and draw up a schedule of the potion he will have to take for the next six month. All the while the old goblin proceeded to explain the mating habits of elves. How they would refuse any romantic interactions from excessive touching to a simple kiss to any one not either their mate or a family member. Which made Harry think back on how disgusted he had been after kissing Cho last year. Even when he had thought he liked her.

The healer then told him that children were rare for elves, but as a wizard-born, his fertility would be about the same as a female witch. When Harry started to panic, not wanting to be pregnant all the time. Darriger explained that as a male magical creature he would have a mating day coinciding with the day of his birthday. Such day would result in a pick in his libido and happened once a month. But that didn't mean that Harry would have to conceive every time like he had then feared, as there existed potions to avoid pregnancy during mating days.

Darriger then proceeded to tell him how he would recognise his mate. Apparently it would all happen in a dream, where he would see a certain object of a certain colour. The colour would match his mate's eye colour which was always quite exotic with magical creatures and become so special to him than only one person will match it. The object would usually foretell how they would meet. Harry didn't really understood how and asked as much but the old goblin only told that neither did he, he was a goblin not an elf after all.

* * *

The days quickly passed in a mixed of Gobbledegook, magical history and creature's customs. Failing to find a good tutor this quickly, the King had agreed to let Kiznaiver take a vacation to teach Harry himself. His young charge took all the knowledge in so quickly that he had to be thankful for Harry's eidetic abilities. The young one will become one of the greatest mind of this century given some time.

One week before the young wizard's birthday, Kiznaiver found his wife explaining the nobility system to Harry.

"So, any goblin can become a noble if he is talented in a particular field?" The green eyed teenager asked excited at the simplicity of it.

"Of course, we are named Lord and Lady Silver thanks to my ancestors' skill with jewelry. I inherited it, but I don't use it often so it makes my work even more sought after," admitted Systran, with a wicked smile that made Harry burst in laughter.

His oldest son Myslien was teaching Harry how to keep out others feelings and how to be able to 'read' as he called it only one specific person or a whole crowd. His natural legilimency abilities wasn't being able to read people thoughts as he and Myslien had expected. Harry's ability manifested itself in a strong empathy. He could feel other emotion as clearly as his own, sensing something as subtle as the mix between desire, disappointment, and sadness that Kiznaiver had felt when Systran had declared there wasn't any pancakes left one morning. The motif of his visit had been to test Harry on his control.

But it seemed to Kiznaiver that they were already done and instead they were seeping tea and talking about the Goblin culture. Kiznaiver suddenly felt so thankful for having the chance to tell Harry about the world. The young man never ceased to ask more and more.

"But then there can only be one noble for each craft," remarked Harry.

"No, like there is a Silver Lordship, there is also a Gold Lordship, even when both work on metal to make jewelry," explained Myslien patiently. The young goblin adored Harry instantly, the emerald eyes, the dark black hair, but above all. Myslien couldn't help but smile when the young one laughed, his giggles were something strangely soothing.

His parents had told him about the horrors Harry had to live through, and they all wondered how Harry still managed to be so kind and open. Sure, he had a hard and cruel side, which manifested itself only when someone spoke of the Chief Warlock. But he still somehow managed to act like a pouting child when Systran fussed over him a little to much, or a curious one when he had a lesson with him or his father.

"What is the difference between nobility and commoners then?" His voice revealing how unsatisfied his curiosity was.

"Well, once acknowledge by our King," Systran began bowing her head slightly as was custom when their ruler was mentioned. The cute little blond waited until her son and ward had done the same before resuming their discussion, "we gain the right to form clans. Ours is the House of Silver, and as such we have the monopoly in our trade. Being able to form a clan is a great honour as it bring profit to the family. Commoners can asked to join the clan and if they are judged useful or worthy, they are sworn to keep the clan secrets within its member."

"So you don't loose your crafting secrets, and gain workers to do the work in your stead." Harry guessed, his mind sharper every day.

"I like that system, it really motivate everyone to work hard and diligently." Harry voiced, speaking to no one other than himself.

"Systran, could you prepare some tea for our guest, please?" said Kiznaiver, finally intruding on their discussion.

The three of them quickly stood up to welcome their guest, and Systran moved to prepare some tea. Myslien promised to come again to test what Harry had learnt during their Legillimency lesson, before promptly leaving the room.

"Harry, I finally found someone suitable to teach you about your upcoming inheritance," announced Kiznaiver, noticing how Harry immediately got excited when he saw the stranger standing next to him. "This is Nuala Balralei, High Scholar of the Light Elves. She will also teach you all you need to know."

"Good evening, young one. Well, I didn't thing you would be this cute, and you are so small it's like you were made to hug. I bet you're a submissive, right?"

The blond was what you defined as voluptuous, she had curves in all the right places, long wavy hair that fell elegantly to her thighs with a few shorter tresses shadowing her dark brown eyes. But what Harry noticed first wasn't her beauty but her height. She was taller than he was by a fair seven inches and Harry couldn't believe he could have grown this tall if it hadn't been for the Dursley's.

"Yes, are you one too? Even when you are this tall?" asked Harry in his shock, forgetting all decorum. But fortunately, the woman only laughed.

"Our race is by average one feet taller than wizards. It's the case with most creature really, now that I think about it. Anyway, it's custom to let a submissive teach another submissive." Remarked Nuala, smiling gently at Harry's lack of knowledge.

"I guess, it make sense." Remarked Harry, trying hard to regain his composure. His mentor seemed determined to treat him like a child, grabbing him by the shoulders to sit him next to her, and leaving her arm around him.

"So do you have any question? I would rather make this a discussion than a speech, you see." Began the blond elf, her arm holding him a little closer.

Harry had a million question he was dying to ask, but he didn't know where to start. Systran came back with a tray full of steaming tea, and fresh smelling cookies, and the diversion was more than welcome. The multiple interrogation that had plagued him since their appointment with Darriger, were hurling themselves to the front of his mind. Figuring out which one to start with, was too confusing to be possible. Thankfully, it was his kind guardian that started the questioning as she served tea.

"So, High Scholar Balralei, how does courting goes for elves? I'm quite curious. Since we learnt that our Harry was a submissive, my husband and I have been worried." Systran asked politely, seating next to Kiz with her own cup.

"Of course, Lady Silver, I guess with how cute this little one turned out to be that you would be worried. There is no proper courting in the Elf culture. We use our ability in summoning to call upon our mate on the night of the Summer Festival. However, this is only for Light elves, Dark elves celebrate in the same fashion on their star festival, which would be on the Winter equinox. As a Grey elf, this little one is allowed to participate in both event, and ask one of the Master Summoner to call for his mate." The scholar explained, her hand going from Harry's shoulder to pat his head when she mentioned him.

"So, I'll have to wait for the equinox?" Said little one asked dejectedly.

"Sadly, you will have to. Unless your mate is a Master Summoner and calls for you frequently." Nuala answered, trying to get Harry back in a good mood.

"So, my mate might have been calling for me already?" His new mentor only nodded, adding to his confusion. "Then why haven't we met? Why hasn't this call worked?"

"Because you weren't his mate yet. In the eyes of magic you were a child, and a child can't be a mate. So even if your mate were to call, he would not have been answered. There are also some wards able to keep such calls from transporting suddenly the target of a call, but the person concerned would have been notified." The high scholar paused and she noticed the frustration in her charge gaze. "First, let's concentrate on your heritage, once you come into your inheritance you should meet your mate quickly. Submissive are always born after their Dominant." She added with a smile, hoping she had diminished his worries.

"Alright, let's talk about something else, then." The green eyed soon to be elf declared, clearly pouting. "How will I fit in your society as a Grey Elf then?"

"Elves live long lives, young one. And even though we live long we are often blessed with only one or two children. Since the number of children is so low, Our King has declared all young would apprentice in the Great Libraries until they acquire the knowledge needed to exercise a trade. As wizard raised, you have learnt basic magic, but nothing of value yet which is why you would either join me in the Sun Library or join the Moon Library. However, this is only a possibility, you are neither required to come live in our lands or to work. If your mate possess a fruitful profession or even if you would prefer not to, no one would force you to learn a trade." The careful attention she gave Harry impressed him, she was patient and gave as much information she could fit in her answers and the young wizard was grateful we would have to speak the million question he had in mind.

"You're a Scholar, right? What does your trade consist of then?" Harry asked curiously.

"As a Scholar, my principal work is the protection and propagation of knowledge. Like now, I instruct young wizard in they inheritance, as well as young elf in their studies when I am able to. I keep the books and artifact of the Sun Library in good shape and make sure to acquire every new publication of interest. Outside from that, I mostly research new area of magic." Nuala provided, winking at Harry at the end as she knew young one where always excited by the possibility to discover new magics.

A smile gratified her cheek. However, it was glaringly obvious that there was no excitement in the green eyes. Nuala could have sworn she saw something flash in them, though. A sadness strangely close to hatred but she quickly convinced herself, it must have been her imagination running wild.

"How does the Elf government work, then? Kiznaiver told me about the Grey King, but I can't help but wonder how he manages to keep the balance between the Light and Dark elves." Her disciple spoke softly, almost as if he wasn't paying attention to the discussion.

"Well, the King keeps a council composed of three elves of each. With their council and monthly audiences from the Unseelie Courts, he rules over our proud Kingdoms."

"The Unseelie Courts? I never heard of that." He asked, his curiosity steering back into their conversation.

"The Unseelie Courts are composed of the lower Seelie races. The Changeling, Fairies, and Pixies were judged unfit to be part of the Seelie Court and formed the Unseelie Courts in its stead. Each race having their own council were a Chairman is named and goes with his two counsels to the King's audiences."

She felt more than saw the green eyed child gaze turn dark. The shivers going through the arm that instinctively left Harry shoulders, couldn't be misinterpreted. The room grew hot, and a slight breeze combed through her long curls. She was about to turn around to make sure no one was behind her, but before she ruled in the courage to do so, her disciple asked, his tone captivating.

"Unfit? And who decided so, if I may ask?" Nuala Balralei didn't miss the promise hidden in the freezing voice.

Harry James Potter wasn't pleased.

Terrified, yet she couldn't avert her eyes from the storm raging around the young man, she had thought of as a child. This human was dangerous, and the strands of magic curling around her forearm only made it painfully clear. Careful, it seemed to warn her. And so,carefully she answered.

"I… I read the first King made the decision. From what I learnt, the first Grey King appointed by the Empress of Magic tried to overturn it but the council threatened to go to war again."

"How many Kings were there after that coward?" asked the mere fifteen year old.

In any other situation, Nuala would have beaten any of her apprentice behind the head for the lack of respect. But here, in a room she couldn't leave quickly enough, seated so close to that kind of magic, with those eyes staring her down into submission. She couldn't, she was proud but in no way was she foolish. So Nuala counted. Instead of protecting the Royal family honour and reprimand the young man for bad mouthing them, she counted how many of them had come to pass.

"Seven."

"Seven, hum?" Harry only repeated, his rage still hot in his veins. He could see Systran holding her Kiz's hand tightly, sharing their worry at seeing him so angry. But right now, he couldn't bring himself to care.

How many wrongs have the Gods done? Isn't there supposed to be Gods because they are faultless. What good are they if they can't do things right.

His seat was vibrating. No, it wasn't his but theirs. His new mentor was shaking, hard.

Now that his focus was on the present again, he could read it clearly in her eyes. How his magic had terrified her. The young man couldn't help it. The fragment of the monster he could have been that had helped him keep his sanity in the Headmaster's office was just too pleased with himself.

So he smirked.

And she gasped, her body curling even further onto herself as if she could shrank.

Harry calmed his magic. The strands of his magic coming back to wrap around him only as he observed. A part of him now saw prey, where before he had seen the female elf as a possible mentor. That part scared him, probably as much as it had scared her.

"I'm sorry. I have quite a temper I'm afraid. It's always been a shame of mine to not have complete control over my magic like everyone I know." The fake chuckles, he had put in between sentences, seemed to have worked. The scholar was back to the smiling and slightly flirty woman she had been. However, this time, her arm stayed in her lap.

"You'll learn, young one. It's part of my job to teach you more about your magical abilities and test your affinities with Elemental magic and Summoning." She answered her tone unfaltering.

A Slytherin, then. Harry mocked internally.

"The King ordered quarters for you to lodge in during your stay." Kiznaiver declared as he stood.

Obviously, Systran and him had decided the discussion should resume after the woman had some rest. And she needed it, Nuala could feel her legs shaking as if threatening to leave her seated if she didn't flee quickly enough.

It was only once the Lord of Silver had escorted the elf out, that Systran broke the silence.

"You should really be ashamed of yourself, young man. Scaring such a sweet teacher so badly… And on your first meeting too. I hope she will still have the will to teach you." The cute little goblin chastised worriedly. But it was clear to Harry, she wasn't serious, the proud smirk on her face was just too obvious.

* * *

Privet Drive was a quiet place, even in the middle of the afternoon.

Arthur, Tonks and Remus couldn't believe how streets could be this deserted. Still, they ignored the strangeness of Harry's hometown and walk up to the door.

After much arguments with Dumbledore, Molly had finally convinced the man that the young boy deserved to spend his birthday with family. And that he would be safer where trained aurors could stay by his side than with muggles, in other words the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters.

Sirius' screams of frustration from being unable to come and pick up his godson still rung in their hears. Remus understood his friend's feeling, he too was delighted to be able to pick up his nephew in the eve of his birthday. And even if he wanted nothing more than let Sirius come and get Harry himself, he knew the risks were too great.

Tonks knocked on the door. They waited long minutes before they heard shuffling in the house, they had almost thought the family was out, if not for Remus' keen hearing. Harry's aunt opened the door, she looked at them with disgust before throwing a simple "He left.".

"He what?" Tonks cried out, the auror had never been good at controlling her reaction.

"There is no need to look for him here, he left a few days after he came back." Petunia explained her tone full of the disdain , they could read clearly enough on her face.

"Do you know where he went?" Arthur asked, always the most patient of them all.

"We left him in that bank of yours! Those little monster even dared to throw us out to keep him. All they had to do was ask really, we would have gladly gave up the freak." The grimacing woman mocked.

'Freak?' is that how they called their own nephew. Harry had pleaded again and again to not have to return, that no matter what Dumbledore said he wasn't safe at all with them.

Why had no one listened to him? Remus thought grimly, feeling his wolf becoming more agitated when he realised his cub supposed family would have given him away to anyone.

"You went to Gringotts! That was dangerous, you could have all been killed if you had met the wrong people!" The pink turned red haired witch exclaimed, also realising exactly what type of relationship Harry had with his family.

"Lies! We were just fine." Intervened Harry's uncle. How the man could walk with all the weight he had to carry around, Arthur would never know. "This is just excuses to keep us from our due."

"Your due?" spoke Arthur, not understanding what they meant.

Vernon threw at them the letter, he had gotten from Gringotts before answering.

"That boy dared to keep us from so much money when we have been taking care of him for all these years. Now that you are here, why don't you go tell those damned monster we are waiting for compensation for our trouble!"

"For your trouble… You went to Gringotts for the money, and when the Goblin refused to give it to you, you left Harry there? What kind of people are you! Harry is your nephew!"

Tonks pointed an accusing finger at Harry's aunt, only for it to be slapped away from her by her husband. The auror was about to take her wand to the man, but Remus stopped her. He caught her shoulder, and walked the few steps that separated the Wizards from the Muggles.

He turned his back to the Dursley, signaling to Arthur and Tonks they were leaving. Without a word, the three adults walked back to the trees they usually used to apparate.

The stride of the werewolf was enough for everyone to understand something was wrong. Only mere seconds, after they had entered the Headquarters, Sirius had known something had happened to his Harry.

"What is it?" He asked his voice surprisingly steady. But the rage he could read in his best friend gaze told him, he would have to wait for the man to calm down first. "Come Molly has prepared tea for Harry."

Dumbledore had thought he would be welcomed with laughters and smiles, but when he stepped out of the flames but only silence welcomed him. At once, the werewolf was standing in front of him, his anger obvious in the tension of his muscled frame.

"It's all your fault." He breathed out, almost in a quiet snarl.

"What is my fault, Remus? Where is Harry?" The elder asked noticing the worry in Arthur's gaze.

"He wasn't at Privet Drive." The red headed man declared softly.

"The fool, that boy can't do what he's been told even to save his own life." Severus Snape declared furious, for he knew, he would be the one tasked with bringing the brat back.

"Snivellus don't you …" But Sirius was cut off by a low but terrifying growl, that made everyone take a step back, away from Remus.

"They abandoned him!" He bite out before turning back to Dumbledore. "And it's your fault! Harry told you, he wasn't safe there but you didn't listen! That damned woman was even glad 'the freak' had left. A 'freak'! That's how they call him, and you left him there, you said he was safe when they were ready to give him to anyone if it meant they would be rid of him! What if a Death Eaters had been clever enough to try and buy Harry out of them, huh! I won't ever trust you again, Dumbledore. You shouldn't be trusted!" Remus finally screamed before storming out of the house.

No one moved, no one spoke, barely breathed too shocked by the truth they had all ignored.

"Harry always said he didn't get on well with his relatives." Ron said his voice full of a new clarity, understanding.

"In first year, when I asked him why he wouldn't send owls back, he said his family weren't comfortable with magic." Hermione voiced in a similar tone.

"They said, they took him to Gringotts to receive what they were due." Arthur spoke in explanation. "They believe they deserve to be payed to have been troubled with Harry all these years. But apparently, the Goblins refused to give them the money and they left Harry there. They abandoned him, just like that."

"Harry is at Gringotts then?" asked Sirius anxiously.

"We can't be sure, but I suspect this is where Remus went." Remarked Dumbledore, speaking for the first time since the werewolf accusations.

"Albus, how could you not know?"

It was Molly who voiced the question that had hanged heavily in the air until then. The tension in the room grew with the lack of answer from their leader. None of them had ever saw Albus Dumbledore, Lord of the Light searching for words. The Headmaster stayed silent his head hang down as if hoping the matter would simply disappear. But the conniving wizard knew the mother in the Weasley matriarch would not let him off lightly. They had finally realised it could not have been possible for him not to know what was happening at Privet Drive, and thankfully they weren't aware of the full extent of Harry's abuse. But still, his plans concerning the boy were falling apart.

* * *

Nuala Balralei had learnt a few things about her new charge, in the few days she had been teaching him.

First, Harry James Potter was brilliant. Elemental Magic came to him naturally, almost like breathing and it took only two days for the boy to find his elements and master them. And still, this wasn't why she had dubbed the young man a genius. Harry was a void user. As an elf, his affinity with the elements was obvious even if it surpassed the statistics she had been taught. But Elementalists able to gain reign over a special elements were rare, only two other elves had that ability and both sat on the King council. If the green eyed young had wished, he could have applied for the title of Sage, the highest title given in a field of magic. But Harry had reasoned that it would bring too much attention on him and even went as far as to make Nuala swore an oath, she would keep his prowess to herself.

This is how the red head realised how truly modest and vulnerable the young man truly was.

"He trusts no one." Systran had told her once.

And it was true. Even when he spoke to his guardians, if she looked hard for it, she could notice slight pauses when he spoke, or the way he subtly avoided physical contact. She learnt in one of their session, that the poor child had been badly abused by people he had thought were his last living relatives. The lack of affection in his life, made him ashamed to show his weakness by thriving comfort in people's touch. So they had worked on it. Obviously, Harry didn't trust her, but he agreed to it when Nuala pretexted it could be noticed by his enemies and even used against him, if the opponent was clever enough.

Nuala couldn't believe how much vulnerability was hidden behind the frightening magic she had encountered on her first day here. But as she came into contact with Harry's magic more and more during their sessions, she began to understand it. Harry often said, he had never been able to gain complete control of his magic like most people. And even with the meditation she had tasked him to do, his magic still seemed to do as it pleased. Flaring to provide an intimidating support, when the wizard was angry. Kindly wrapping around him when he needed comfort. After long discussions over dinner, with the Silver Family they had come to the conclusion that Harry's magic must have a will of its own somehow.

Harry adventure's at the Wizards' school only seemed to prove them right.

Be it his strange state of balance between Basilisk venom and Phoenix tears, the multiple times magical artifact had responded to him when they shouldn't have, or even the fact that he seemed to escape Death like no other.

"Nuala, what did you plan for today's lesson ?" asked her charge.

"I thought you were more than ready to try your skills on a summoning. What do you think ? "

At once, the young man's eyes shined with excitement, already impatient to hear his teacher's instruction on the matter.

"The First Summon is always very important and meaningful. Not only on a personnal level but also in the eyes of your future peers. The first summon shows how much Mother Magic favours you. Do you feel ready for this ?"

"Yes, of course. But what did you mean by favoured by magic ? I'm a beginner how can a crappy summon show what our Mother expects of me." Asked Harry, intrigued by the over-interpretation.

"Well depending on the size of your core, you can only sustain a definite number of contract. If the beast is of a high rank, it will take a bigger strain on your magic to keep it under your contract.

For example, one of my summons is a Pegasus. It takes me about 10 percent of my magic to contract it. We both know your core is much bigger than mine, so you could contract more Pegasus than I can. But that is just natural predisposition. Those amounts of magic required are recorded as Summoning Value or Points and registered by the Guild for each beast ever summoned. For a Pegasus, it should take 14 Summoning Points to contract one but for some it takes less than that. This is where Mother shows favour and allow you to call one of hers for lesser amount of magic than should be required."

"So it's like getting a discount because someone likes you ?" Harry wondered out-loud.

"Pretty much !" Nuala laughed at the silly description. "We never figured why some people have less costs for the same species. Sometimes, it's just because the individual beast is just weaker than usual. But every account could not be justified. So some ended up theorizing that Mother Magic was just more lenient with some summoners."

"I really hope she likes me then. I would love to have more familiars."

"Summons are different than familiars. Some beasts could have become familiars, but summons can also be spirits, magical beasts, or even ghosts in rare cases." informed Nuala.

"Even ghosts ? How does that work ?"

"No one knows as of yet. That's why I'm a researcher, aren't I ?" joked his teacher with her common flirty attitude.

"What do I do ?" asked Harry back on track.

"Usually, a Summoning is done with a particular target in mind. But the First is always done blind. With no materials or ritual to guide the magic to a specific target, your magic will call to the Summons easiest to call for you. So all you have to do is ask, really."

"I just have to ask ? That seems to simple. "

"Not all Magic requires a spell. Present yourself clearly by name and ask the Mother for a Summon. Feel free to use your own words they should come naturally to you. Just concentrate on your magical core while speaking and you'll be fine." Smiled Nuala a little too patronizing for Harry's taste.

Still, she had yet to lead him wrong so he closed his eyes and concentrated on his magic. Its flow, its feel. Suddenly he was speaking.

"I, Harry James Potter, call upon my dear Mother and the Magic of the World to find a Summon I may be worthy of. May they be willing to answer my call."

As we finished his sentence, Magic saturated the room and runes appeared on the floor shining bright. They drew themselves in a circle as a wind began to twirl around the room.

A loud crack similar to apparition drew his attention away from the circle to cover his ears. When Harry looked back to the center of the circle, he found an enormous white tiger growling at his teacher. As if feeling his eyes on it, the feline turned to meet him.

"Are you my summon now ?" Harry wondered in awe in front of the mighty beast.

A growl answered him.

"No ? You don't want to ?" He asked surprised. He had asked for someone willing to bond with him because he couldn't bear to be the same as Dumbledore.

"I am no mere Summon, young one." answered an unknown voice. The tiger righted itself and magic build as light envelopped him and suddenly the tiger wasn't a tiger any longer but a man.

"Should he be able to do that ?" The student asked the teacher.

Nuala was just as surprised as Harry was. How had he been able to summon a Legendary ranked beasts on his first Summon.

"You should not have been able to summon me. I'm already contracted under another. How did you set up this ritual ?" interrompted the tiger-man.

"There is no set up... this is my first Summon. If you don't want to contract with me, I can try again. Do you have a way to go home ? Do you need help ?" asked the young human gently.

"If this is your first Summon, then you have to be connected to my Lady. There is no way a little human could been able to call on me." The man walked to Harry, stepping outside the still glowing rune circle.

"How did you step out ?" cried out Nuala in a defensive pose ready to battle at a moment notice. "Summons should not be able to leave their circle until the Summoner verbally allows it."

"You must not be a great Summoner if that's what you think. The kid doesn't feel he needs to be protected from me so his magic allowed me to leave the Summoning Circle that is all." The tall man presented his hand to Harry, waiting for something. "Come on kid, take my hand."

Harry did as he was told. Through their hands, he could feel the man magic inquiring his for information, just like the diagnostic spells had done. The man let go of his hand and looked at him, intrigued. He graceful knelt and intoned in a ceremonious tone.

"I'll bond with you. I shall swear upon my name, soul, and magic that I will protect you and yours and serve you to the best of my abilities. Until the Great Ghost does us appart. Do you accept my oath ?"

Harry hesitated, he had expected a new pet not some sort of knight. Could he really let someone swear their life to him. His instincts were telling him he could trust that man more than anyone he had ever met and his magic was still gently greeting the tiger-man. So Harry still concentrated on his magic answered.

"So you swear so you should be bound. In return, I vow to never asked any tasks of you that my tarnish your honor. You will always be welcome by me and mine. And should you wish to be free from your oath, I swear to allow it. Until the Great Ghost does us appart. Do you accept my oath."

"So you swear so you should be bound."Answered his knight. "You are very much in tune with your magic, my Lord. It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Yuri. What is yours ?"

"Harry... My name is Harry. Why are you calling me Lord ? I'm not a Lord." asked the young wizard embarassed by the reverance the man used to speak to him.

"He swore his loyalty to you. Even if you have no title, he chose you as his Lord." Explained Nuala, still shocked by the day event.

"But you already had a Lady. How can you make the same vow to me ?" insisted Harry.

"You are bound by magic to my Lady. That is all I'm allowed to say as of yet. So I am to serve you as I would serve her. Feek free to ask if you need anything."

"Alright... Then... I don't mean to be rude and if you don't want to answer it's fine. But what are you ? ... I never heared of a tiger that could turn into a man." The young man asked hesitantly.

"No offense there, my Lord. I was born a Byakko. A type a magical tiger that as elemental affinities with thunder and ice. I served my Lady for so many years and her magic, just like yours, as a will. Being in contact with this type of magic made all her summons able to gain humanoid traits. Right now, I'm more of an hybrid between a weretiger and a byakko." explained Yuri with mirth in his indigo eyes. His hand combed through his short white blond hair, his big stature had yet to relax. He seemed to be a warrior through and through, always ready to fall in a battle stance.

* * *

Albus had still somehow managed to keep his influence on the child because that was what he was, a lonely and powerless child. But if the Dursley's had taken him to Gringotts, the until now boy was on his way to become a young man with a lot of money and even more political power. The goblin must have realised Petunia was not Harry's aunt by blood. And soon, if not already, Harry would learn all the lies he had fed him.

When Harry had started to complain about his relative, it had been easy to realise the child's need for affection would keep him from talking about it to anyone else. The young wizard was a Griffindor, a noble and prideful Griffindor. There was absolutely no way, he would have admitted being completely powerless in front of simple muggles, that were supposed to be family.

And even if he had been desperate enough to voice his fears, Albus knew no one would have believed him. Or they would have brought any suspicious to their kind and caring lord of light believing he knew better than any of them. But if the Goblins entered his schemes, the wise professor knew he was loosing his hero. The prophesied child he had raised and trained into the young man he needed to be to serve his purpose.

"Albus, how could you not know?" insisted Molly.

"They were his family. I never thought they would ..."

"They never said his name." Interrupted Arthur. "They only called him "the Freak", they never once called him Harry."

"The blood wars were essential to his protection. They were the best way for him to be safe. How could I have anticipated they would..." Albus tried again.

"You should have checked. If I wasn't in Azkaban, I would have checked on him all the time. Did you even go there once before he got to Hogwarts ?!" shouted Sirius beside himself from rage.

"I..."

They didn't even allow him to speak before they began to chat about who would go after Remus to see if Harry was at Gringotts.

Maybe his hero wasn't the only thing he was loosing his grip on.


End file.
